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The Davosers 


The English Press on 

THE DAVOSERS 

By D. BRANDON 


“An unusual, and an unusually good novel. ... It is a 
human document unfolded with quiet humour, always in the 
best possible taste. The ipeople are all human beings, every 
one of them, as much as you or I, and the episodes are all as 
real as human life.” — Daily Chronicle. 

“ Miss Brandon justifies her choice of theme by a touching 
record of friendship between two men, butterfly and cynic 
respectively, and by the fire which dominates her picture of a 
love triumphant over death and irony." — Athenceum. 

• “ They are brave, gay people . . . and Mr Brandon has 
made a fine story out of them and out of Davos.” — Daily 
Graphic* 

“The charm of the volume lies in its quiet sincerity and 
natural characterisation and in its virile sentiment. . . . We 
can recall few more poignant scenes than that in which the two 
friends fear to face a dreaded and irrevocable parting. Flutter- 
by, curedj is leaving Davos for ever, and Eyre, with the definite 
confirmation of a terrible knowledge before him, fears to become 
his friend’s companion into the outside world. . . . Those to 
whom Davos is but a name will find in its pages much to be 
glad of and something near to tears.” — The Globe, 

“ The elements of comedy and tragedy, of pathos and almost 
farcical humour, of idyllic tenderness and gay adventure are 
strangely mixed in this cleverly written book. Miss Brandon’s 
dialogue is capital. ... It is distinctly a book to be read.” 
— The Bookman. 

“It is interesting to notice how a book with a real human 
touch makes its appeal to its readers. You feel in reading it 
there is a human pen — a pen which has felt things and known 
things behind it.” — Book Monthly. 

“ Cannot fail to attract serious attention. Far and away 
above the average work with which we have to deal. Great 
power, much insight, and a very definite grasp of the subject.” 
— The Field, 

“That rare thing, a good story. It is enormously to Mr 
Brandon’s credit that he establishes a sure footing for himself in 
Davos in spite of Miss Beatrice Harraden.” — Illustrated 
London News. 

“ Those who are capable of appreciating it at all will love it 
and most of the people in it, and give it a place of honour in the 
shelf of favourite books.” — The Lady. 

“It is difficult to convey the curious elusive charm ... it 
must be read to be understood, and then it will be read again 
and again.” — Yorkshire Daily Observer. 



The Davosers 


By 

D. Brandon 


“ You’ve seen the world — 

The beauty and the wonder and the power — 

The shapes of things, their colours, lights and shades. 
Changes, surprises — and God made it all 1 
. . . . For what? .... 

What’s it all about ? 

To be passed over, despised? — or dwelt upon — 
Wondered at ? Oh, this last, you say. 

Then why not do as well as say, paint these 
J ust as they are, careless what comes of it ? 

God’s works — paint any one, and count it crime 
To let a truth slip.’ 

— Fra Lippo Lippi 


New York 

George H. Doran Company 






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I Dedicate 

THESE DAVOS PAPERS 

TO THEIR FIRST CRITIC AND MOST 
STEADFAST FRIEND, 

A. C. T. 


V 



The Davosers 

KEY 

“ Beyond mere outward seeming, Davos is a most 
baffling and elusive place to consider, for, though almost 
any adjective in the dictionary may be applied to it, no 
one adequately describes it. We may best compare it to 
an opal, and say that when we can define the colour of 
that exquisite ill-omened stone, we shall be able to coin a 
word that fitly expresses the many-sidedness of Davos.” 

— D. Brandon in The Boudoir." 

Every opal is a tiny crucible wherein the five 
precious stones melt and commingle in lucent- 
coloured flame. As you look into the heart of 
the gem, you may see the sapphire and emerald 
wage blazing war with flashes of diamond 
brightness. Shift it a little, and you catch 
glints of peaceful amethyst, or the yellow glow 
of the topaz. Sometimes a milky cloud of 
grey ness shrouds the play of colours, then, in a 
moment, a wave of ruby light, flecked with fierce 
red sparks, rises from the depths and suffuses 
the whole stone with its triumphant flood. 

9 


The Davosers 

Which things are a parable. 

In these papers, I have striven to make mani- 
fest some of the many phases of Davos life, and 
a few of the divers sentiments with which the 
place is regarded by the men and women of all 
peoples, nations, and languages, who come to 
the snow valley seeking Pleasure or fleeing 
Misfortune. For the broken lights and vanish- 
ing colours of the opal, I give you the unfin- 
ished chapters and half-told tales of this little 
book. In them I have tried to reveal the green 
light of cynicism with its diamond sparks of 
wit, the true blue of courage, violet hues of 
tenderness, golden gleams of humour, red glints 
of passion, veiling clouds of sorrow and Light 
that Shines Behind, which some call the True 
Romance. All these go to make my Opal, and 
if you would consider it aright, study each 
gleam of colour separately before you watch 
them blending into the whole iridescence. 

Moreover, I have hung my jewel on a fine 
gold chain : the story of a friendship. 

D. B. 


10 


BOOK I 
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I 


ON REVIENT TOUJOURS 

“The Lord made Davos,’* Locke declares, 
“ last thing on the Saturday evening and He 
was feeling used up.*’ 

Then Bertie Ray White enlarges on the sub- 
ject. “ October twelvemonth,** he burst out, 
in a tone of sulky exasperation, “ my doctor 
said to me ‘ By Christmas, you’ll be feeling so 
well in the be-yootiful pure air of Davos, that 
you’ll be wanting to climb a mountain.* Good 
Lord, I can’t imagine anything makin* me want 
to climb a mountain I I can’t think what any- 
one does want to climb a mountain for, anyway I 
What’s the good of Swiss Alps, except as an 
advertisement for milk chocolate? They do 
make rather a decent background for a poster, 
and yet there are people at home savin’ up their 
pennies for a Swiss trip, all pantin’ to see the 

13 


The Davosers 

twilight, highlight, skylight on these bally 
Alpses.** 

Then Locke takes up the tale again. 

** When you come to think that there are 
people who come here again and again that 
don’t have to ” he maunders. 

Flutter-by takes his empty pipe out of his 
mouth (he sucks it as a comforter for the blessed 
weed that is forbidden him) and says with sweet 
fervency — “ I wouldn’t go home if I could.” 

We all feel that this is the utmost word; for 
the exquisitely sharp point of that irony tickles 
every one of us; laughing and groaning we go 
our ways. 

There are the five of us, Locke, Boy Bartram, 
Bertie Ray White, Flutter-by, and myself, 
who somehow hang together throughout the 
changes and chances of hotel life; yearly for- 
gathering under the same roof at Davos, all 
more or less ill and very much alone, shut up in 
the snow valley for the winter of our discontent. 

Locke is an Afrikander. He came to Europe 
for a year’s holiday, and developed lungs in 
Paris. Both he and the doctor are quite sure 

14 


The Davosers 

he would do very well in his native air, but 
since he is such a bad sailor that he feels ill 
directly he sets foot on the ship’s gangway, he 
can’t go back until he is sufficiently cured to be 
able to suffer from mal-de-mer without endanger- 
ing his life. When in low spirits, he says he 
never will get home until they build the Cape to 
Cairo Railway; sometimes he hates Davos so 
much that he says he will go as far as that line 
has reached at present and sit on the embank- 
ment while the rest is building. He is usually 
the most cheerful soul that ever laughed away 
the blues; a quaint mixture of simplicity and 
shrewd wit. Nobody knows his age, but it 
might be anything from twenty-eight to forty. 
In person he is sandy-haired and thick-set, and, 
since he takes six glasses of milk a day and no 
exercise, he is growing stout. 

Boy is the eldest of the three youngsters, who 
are all in the thereabouts of twenty. He is a 
pretty, girlish-looking fellow, with downy light 
brown hair and a neat little moustache; one of 
those soft and slow-to-wrath people whose 
tempers, like badgers, once drawn are uncom- 

15 


The Davosers 

monly nasty to tackle. There is nothing 
actually wrong with him, but he comes of deli- 
cate stock and has outgrown his strength. So 
his people, mindful of a brother who died when 
about his age, send him abroad every winter. 
His ambition is one day to cut out Flutter-by 
with the prettiest girl in Davos, pending which 
he attaches himself to her most formidable rival, 
who generally smiles on him so that the other 
girl shan’t think she wants Flutter-by. 

Bertie is an unlicked cub ; a lanky, tow- 
headed young animal, whose crude pink face is 
strewn with ochre freckles. Locke is of the 
same roseate hue, while the rest of us run from 
the light oak to mahogany shades of Davos 
tan. Bertie cannot be called conceited, but he 
has a fixed notion that he can do all things well, 
which is not so. We adopted him because he 
was so obviously incapable of looking after him- 
self, and there was no one else to do it for him. 
Lastly you have our two selves — Antony Fitz- 
Gerald Herries, by reason of his many love 
affairs called Flutter-by, and Reginald Chal- 

loner Eyre — friends par notable 

i6 


The Davosers 

even among the goodly fellowship of Davos 
comrades. 

Providence and the proprietor had some hand 
in the beginning of our acquaintance by allotting 
us adjoining rooms, and thus making us bal- 
cony neighbours. So every day before putting 
on our fur sacks and rolling on to the long 
deck-chairs in which we fulfil our slow hours* 
tale of lying out, courtesy bade us exchange 
a few words across the two feet of space that 
divided us. Day by day the curt greeting grew, 
and some commonplace confidences were ex- 
changed over our wrought-iron railings. Then 
a few chance words of Rittner’s — if they were 
chance words I 

Rittner is essentially The Doctor. He is a 
cosmopolitan, for his mother was English and 
his father German, no Prussian but a Holstein 
Dane with Norse blood in his veins. He was 
brought up in England and Switzerland, and 
studied medicine in Paris, consequently he has 
more than a little knowledge of that product of 
nationality, heredity, and individuality we call 

temperament. His smooth, tired face is singu- 
17 B 


The Davosers 

larly quiescent, with no remarkable feature save 
its jutting chin and the pallor that defies the 
Davos sun. His eyes are steady, and he has a 
way of saying “ Ah with his lids half-closed 
and his mouth half-open, which makes the man 
who has allowed some inaccuracies to creep 
into his temperature chart uncomfortable. He 
looks the sort of man who would be lost in a 
crowd, but he is never overlooked, and it is as 
hard to imagine him flinging out a curt com- 
mand as it is to think of disobeying his gently 
spoken suggestions; and, if you work them out 
backwards to their beginnings, you will find 
that he is responsible for most of the happen- 
ings in Davos, from a change in the hotel menu 
to the last engagement. 

Half-way through Flutter-by’s first, and my 
second, winter, we each went to Rittner within 
a day or two of the other. He talked to me 
about “ hereditary mischief, dormant as yet,” 
and said that I must come out for several 
winters. Then, just as I was going, carelessly 
asked, Young Herries is next door to you, 
isn’t he? He seems a nice fellow, and there’s 

i8 


The Davosers 

really nothing much wrong with him. What 
a pity he’s so careless about himself I ” He did 
not look at me and seemed to be speaking quite 
abstractedly, but somehow it set me thinking 
whether I couldn’t look after the boy a bit. 

When Flutter-by went to him, he tapped his 
collar-bone with a bent knuckle and noted a 
“slight crepitation at the apex of the left lung,” 
then talked while he sounded him. 

Have you got to know your neighbour — 
(breathe, please) — Eyre? What — (again) — a 
well-read man he is! A bad patient though; he 
thinks about himself too much.” That was all, 
but Flutter-by came away resolved to fry and 
rouse me from my moody introspection. Two 
days later a married couple left the hotel, 
and their table fell vacant; a desirable table, 
in the sunny window and out of the draught of 
the door, I went to the bureau to apply for it, 
and met Flutter-by coming out. 

“I’m going to see if I can get the Wilbra- 
ham’s table. D’you know if it’s gone? ” 

No, I’ve just been asking for it, but they 
won’t let it go for one. Y’see it’s the best place 

19 


The Davosers 

in the room. I was awfully keen on having it. 
My corner’s so beastly stuffy, it takes away my 
appetite.” 

A brain wave bore the same thought from 
mind to mind, but reserve held back speech. 
Then Flutter-by’s eyes lit tentatively as they 
met mine. I nodded. His smile flashed out 
and he coloured with pleasure. ” If you 
wouldn’t hate it,” he said ingenuously. “ You 
like being alone, don’t you? ” 

” It’s a morbid joy, and bad for me. So if 

you don’t mind my snarling ” 

“Rot! Hi, Johann! Mr Eyre and I are 
going to share that table.” 

So it began, and now, what he is to me I 
can hardly say; a favourite younger brother 
perhaps — but then I never had a brother, nor a 
sister either, for that matter. I only know that 
since I have known Flutter-by I understand 
better what I was to my father — his only human 
tie. Even when he died, I did not realise his 
love for me so fully as I did the first time I was 
anxious for Flutter-by ; the first time I was 
proud of him. 


20 


The Davosers 

I have no great faith in other people, and less 
in myself, but I believe in Flutter-by. I like to 
think that the boy is as straight and plucky as 
he is gay and gallant; that his “ charming 
manners ” are taught him by a very tender heart 
and a chivalrous nature. I hold that his faults 
are generous ; what are his flirtations but philan- 
thropic efforts to prevent as many girls as 
possible from being bored? Say, one or two of 
them make themselves miserable about him ? 
Well, since men must work to pay off Eve’s 
apple bill, they would not be human if they did 
not sometimes make women weep. 

The Courier published a cartoon of him, 
bound hand and foot to one of the striped posts 
on the public rink, with true lovers’ knots of 
blue ribbon. His heart is pierced with many 
arrows, whose heads are pretty faces, while 
around him whirls a snowstorm of billet douXy 
beginning with anything from “ Dear Flutter- 
by ” to “ My ownest, only Tony.” 

His natural genius is an infinite capacity for 
adoration, for he pays every girl to whom he 

attaches himself the irresistible compliment of 
21 


The Davosers 

falling spontaneously in love with her ; his 
affection is always genuine ; his devotion ardent, 
and his vows fresh. I think the very fervour 
of his passion is the cause of its painfully rapid 
exhaustion. Certainly his heart has wonder- 
ful powers of recuperation, if it has been 
wounded as many times as people say. He is 
undaunted by the number of times he has met 
his affinity, and each succeeding girl whom 
he earnestly assures that she is his one and 
only love ” is fain to believe him because he is 
so thoroughly convinced of it himself. 

He has a smile that does the rest. It is his 
birthright, by virtue of the strain of Irish blood 
in him, handed down from the Tudor days 
when Eily FitzGerald flashed a shy, bewitching 
challenge — a glance soft as the light of the sun 
when it shines on falling rain — from under her 
dusky lashes at the stately Spanish stranger, 
Don Antonio Herrerez, and the grave-faced 
Spaniard met it with a swift smile that gleamed 
whitely between his bearded lips and surprised 
the heart of the Kerry girl. You may see their 
courtship over again on Flutter-by’s face when 
22 


The Davosers 

he is making love, for, as he lifts his eyes to a 
woman, the lovely Eily laughs out of them while 
his mouth is yet serious; then presently his lips 
are parted by the dazzling Southern smile that 
wholly lit the dark face of Don Antonio. 

There is one thing that ought to be explained, 
but that cannot be — at least by the present 
scribe — and that is why we always come back 
to Davos. There are so many other places that 
a man who is forbidden to winter in England 
can go to — Biskra, Cairo, Teneriffe, Biarritz; 
or, if it must be Switzerland, why not St Moritz, 
Arosa, Adelboden? If you meet a Davoser in 
England he will tell you that he is thinking of 
trying one of these this Season. You get a 
bit tired of the same place every year — yes, 

we all think we should like Egypt, but ** he 

smiles wanly — “ I expect we shall gravitate to 
Davos.** 

Just So : one gravitates to DavoS. 

But tvhy? Do we love it so much? 

Well, no. 

For though in my heart I curse and fret more 

23 


The Davosers 

bitterly than all of them, and I come down from 
mountains as gladly as Persephone rose from 
Hades, though I swear I will never go near the 
place again, and mean to keep my oath, yet 
when I have been in England a few months and 
the summer has grown stale, when the wayside 
is thick with dust, and the stuffy heated air is 
as flat as boiled water; when my limbs are 
flaccid and my pulse beats slackly and there is 
no goodness in me; memory harks back. 

I tread a dream road of rolled snow, bordered 
by soft drifts, in which I may sink to my knees 
or my neck when the driver’s “ Ach-tung! ” 
warns me off the hard track to let his easy 
riding sleigh pass. The white landscape rises 
before my eyes glistening with a diamond glint 
as it lies at my feet, but the glitter dies out of 
the snow as it stretches away from me, and 
there remains only dead chalky whiteness. 
Great white hills sail slowly over the low hori- 
zon and group themselves in their well remem- 
bered order, with the snow lying on their brows 
like peace, and shaggy manes of black 

bristling pines clinging to their sloping 
24 


The Davosers 

shoulders. Then I come to the little wooden 
bridge over the Landwasser on the road to 
Clavadel, and as I look down on the stream 
running between its ice-bound banks, I feel its 
fresh, chill breath on my cheeks, as it rises from 
the waters; the cold sends an electric thrill 
through my being, my veins tingle with life; I 
rejoice and am strong in the glory of the sun- 
light. 

I forget my longing when August passes, for 
I love the crisp cool of the early autumn. But 
presently, when the rain has washed the colours 
from the leaves, and the wind has strewn them 
on the ground, there come mild, steamy Novem- 
ber days when the earth breathes out damp 
mist, when the wet woods drip, and the dead 
leaves reek dankly as they rot underfoot, and 
the leaden sky shuts down on me like the lid 
of a coffin. I cannot breathe; I fight against 
the burden of heavy atmosphere that over- 
powers me as a living corpse might vainly push 
with his hands against the relentless boards 
nailed over him. As I look up to the clouds 
that veil high heaven, I remember how softly 

25 


The Davosers 

the vast vault of deepest, coldest blue melts into 
infinity above Davos. Then the desire of the 
Hills is upon me, I hear the Call of the Snows, 
and Something within me that is stronger than 
my will answers “ I come.” And so it comes to 
pass that I walked the Platz again with Flutter-by . 

You may meet us any evening between five 
and six when all Davos walks down the Platz to 
stare into the lighted shops and read the latest 
telegrams in the window of the Kurverein. 
Look out for two bare-headed young men, swing- 
ing along in their great fur-lined coats, with 
turned-up storm collars standing out round their 
ears; lordly figures but for the homely woollen 
stockings and shapeless ” gouty ” clad feet 
which concluded them. You will see a score 
of such couples, but you will notice us because 
his slim, straight figure looks wonderfully 
boyish beside my big-boned lankiness. More- 
over you may know Flutter-by by the glow on 
his lean brown face, by his grey Irish eyes and 
the arched Spanish brows above them, that are 
so much darker than the ruddy brown hair which 

has just a crisp ripple on his temples. 

26 


The Davosers 

I am content. It is good to breathe the thin 
air so like iced champagne; good to greet the 
well-known faces of the old Davosers — Locke’s, 
Bertie’s, and those of many others, who vowed 
last season that Davos should see them no more. 
And though Flutter-by’s eyes are ever straying 
after some girl or other, it troubles our friend- 
ship no more than the ripple on the surface of 
the ocean disturbs its depths; for his hand is on 
my arm and I know that we are knit together 
as closely as though we had not been parted 
all the summer. And whether the amber after- 
glow climbs slowly up the clear sky, or whether 
the heavy grey storm-clouds close over the 
valley, and the air is thick with floating snow- 
flakes, it’s just as it always was — Davos — “ the 
most hideous, beautiful, sorrowful, gay, dull, 
lively, active, inert, serious, frivolous, morbid, 
joyous, boring, entertaining, detestable, fas- 
cinating, little rabbit-warren on earth.” 


27 


“ Oh upright judge ! 

Oh excellent young man ! ” 

— Merchant of Venice^ 

“ D’you know,” said Flutter-by very seriously, 
suddenly stopping short as we were walking 
down the Platz together one evening, ” I’m 
hanged if I don’t believe I’m not going to be 
able to get a partner for the waltzing competi- 
tion. I’d been counting on Nita Bryant, but 
she’s gone and booked herself to Boy Bartram. 
And I taught her all she knows, ungrateful 
little baggage I Of course, there are half a dozen 
girls nearly good enough; they would be good 
enough after I’d coached em’ a bit, but they’d 
probably come down with me over it ; but 
Rittner says I’m not to fall. And there’s not 
one of them worth crossing the road to look at,” 
he wound up injuredly. ” Don’t grin; it 

makes all the difference, I can tell you. I’m 
28 


The Davosers 

getting too old to be inspired by just an armful 
of girl.” 

“I’m sorry for you. . . . Well, perhaps a 
new goddess will arrive. Aren’t Bertie Ray 
White’s relations bringing out a girl cousin 
with them? He says she can skate a bit.” 

Flutter-by shook his head gloomily. “ You 
couldn’t teach her to waltz in ten days,” he said 
despondently, as we went into the hotel. 

Bertie’s aunt arrived that same evening; she 
looked to be a pleasant, non-essential woman ; 
but I found the cousin worthy of a second 
glance. She was fair, but there was no hue of 
yellow in her hair, and only as it were the 
ashes of gold. Its light masses were piled high 
and loosely above her forehead and a great rope 
of it coiled from the nape of her neck to the 
crown of her head. She was pale, but her close- 
shut lips were very red and her eyes were as 
darkly grey as the sky before snow. She was 
not very tall, but she moved well, and although 
not a beauty, was distinctly a noticeable girl. 

After dinner Boy, Flutter-by, and I were pre- 
sented by Bertie; and Miss Vansittart, having 
29 


I'he Davosers 

glanced at Flutter-by and measured me with a 
steady look, began to talk to Boy about skating. 
She spoke with great individuality, and the 
quick, humorous intelligence that sparkled in 
her sombre eyes lighted up her whole face. 

It seemed that she had spent two winters in 
Vienna and knew more than a little about Con- 
tinental skating; and when she began asking 
about the English style, Flutter-by joined in the 
conversation with a correction of one of Boy’s 
statements. Then Miss Vansittart gave us a 
taste of her quality, not knowing that he was 
speaking on his own subject and resenting alike 
the interruption and the tone of terse authority. 
She fixed him with a cool stare, dropped her lids 
repellently, and said, “Go on, please, Mr 
Bartram.” 

It was the snub direct, and Flutter-by, being 
quintessentially human and perhaps a little 
spoiled, raged inwardly, vowing to me that he 
would remain unconscious of Miss Vansittart’s 
existence during the rest of her stay. 

But no later than the very next morning 
Flutter-by found his attention drawn to Miss 

30 


The Davosers 

Vansittart, for, as vhe band on the Eisbahn 
struck up “ Sourire d’Avril ** and two or three 
couples started to waltz, he came up to me and, 
touching my arm, said in a low, excited voice, 
“ I say, look at that girl I ” 

I turned and saw Boy swinging Miss Vansit- 
tart round ; moreover, she was dancing as lightly 
as though her skates were satin slippers. 

“ She’s as good as Nita, isn’t she? ” 

‘‘ Better; she’s got more sense of rhythm. 
See how she’s making Boy keep on the beat. 
By Jove! I wish I could get her for a partner.” 

And it seems likely that he might do so, for 
all the men who meant to enter for the competi- 
tion were already paired off, though both Boy 
and Captain Whyte engaged Miss Vansittart 
as a second string. But Flutter-by would not 
ask her at once because, though she was always 
civil, she was not as cordial to him as she was 
to the rest of us, and he was not minded for 
another rebuff. Then certain untoward circum- 
stances and an unlucky speech did for him 
entirely. 

Apart from her waltzing. Miss Vansittart 

31 


The Davosers 

skated exceedingly well, even when judged by 
Davos standard, but in the Continental 
style; and therefore, to her intense chagrin, she 
found that, instead of being numbered among 
the elect of the English club, she would not be 
even allowed to set foot on the English rink 
until she had passed their club test — inside and 
outside edges, forwards and backwards, and the 
forward eight, without using the arms, or the 
“ unemployed ” foot, or bending the knees. 

Now, the Continental style, with its flying 
attitude of widespread arms, its dancing pos- 
tures, and the free swing of the said unemployed 
foot, exploits showy grace; while the English 
style cherishes its severe simplicity, requiring 
that the arms should be held stiffly pendent at 
the sides, and the foot which is not in use kept 
immovably poised, with the point of the skate 
at the heel of the other foot. This, in the first 
heat of her resentment. Miss Vansittart had 
called the deification of the national attitude of 
looking as though you’d swallowed the poker. 
And Flutter-by, who is one of the staunchest 

upholders of the English style, a purist, and a 
32 


The Davosers 

lover of the good old Anglo-Saxon, besides 
being one of the very few really graceful ex- 
ponents of the cult, had been annoyed. 

For a few days Miss Vansittart nursed her 
wrath, while debating what she was going to do. 
True, she abhorred compromise, but then she 
fretted in obscurity — and the English rink lies 
most tantalisingly alongside the public one, the 
two being separated from each other only by a 
snow embankment, over which none but the 
members of the English club might pass. 
Wherefore it was a daily mortification to her to 
see the privileged crossing from one rink to the 
other, and as she watched these skaters gliding 
up and down the hewn-out steps, like trout 
along a fish-ladder, she yearned to follow them 
as blindly as though some chill, unseen Lorelei 
were beckoning to her from the further side. 
And in this she is only one of the many who 
have been irresistibly drawn towards the mag- 
netic enclosure. Merely to look down upon it 
from the road above and see the members skating 
unwearyingly round oranges and little crimson 
balls is enough to set the average active Briton 
33 C 


The Davosers 

agog to earn the freedom of its classic ice ; for 
though the English rink is generally admitted 
to be the dullest spot in Davos, the glory of 
being “ on ” it is unspeakable. 

So there was as little surprise to hear Miss 
Vansittart announce on the Monday following 
her arrival that she was going in for the English 
style as there was infinite dismay when she 
added that she meant to go up for her test on 
the very next Wednesday. 

It was a snowy day, or we might have rallied 
better, but a snowy day at Davos is a grey and 
dreary aeon, when all spirits are laden with the 
seven times damped depression of a wet Sunday 
at the seaside. 

At last Flutter-by jerked out blankly, “ But 
you won’t do it,” and Bertie blunderingly en- 
larged upon the forlornness of the attempt, 
‘‘You know you can’t skate English for nuts. 
You’ll find yourself most horribly left when you 
begin to try to get your balance without using 
all your arms and legs to steady yourself. It’s 
deuced hard, I can tell you.” 

Miss Vansittart looked offended. ‘‘ Mr 

34 


The Davosers 

Bartram has been coaching me, and he thinks 
ril do it all right,” she declared obstinately. 

” She may just as well have a shot,” said 
Boy comfortably. “You never know your 
luck. Besides, she can do her eight three times 
out of five now.” 

” That’s not good enough,” said Flutter-by 
quickly; then, as the possibility of the com- 
mittee’s arranging for him to be one of the two 
judges for that Wednesday occurred to him, he 
went on earnestly, ” Miss Vansittart, I wish 
you’d wait another week. Honestly, I don’t 
think you’ve a chance. The change is bound 
to spoil your skating for a bit. I was looking 
at you to-day, and you’re not as good now as 
you were when you first came.” 

She was wavering, so I put in suavely, “You 
see, between two styles you will not improbably 
come to the ground — and all the world on the 
public rink will be craning their heads over the 
bank to look at you.” 

” It’s awfully sporting, I know,” added 
Flutter-by eagerly, ” but,” he searched his 
memory for something effective and found the 
35 


The Davosers 

tag-end of a quotation, “ it’s ‘ rushing in where 
angels fear to tread.’ ” 

Miss Vansittart took him up instantaneously. 

“ Thank you for calling me a fool,” said she, 
in a white heat of anger; and Flutter-by bit his 
lip, cursing his indiscretion; but, though the 
dull red flush of embarrassment was spreading 
slowly over his forehead, he faced her squarely 
as he answered : 

” You know I didn’t mean that, Miss 
Vansittart.” 

She gave a deliberate little laugh. The sound 
seemed to be made of cold steel. 

‘‘ I fail to find any other interpretation to your 
-words,” she said. 

And there she had him. For there was none. 

“You have, of course, every right to your 
opinion 1” she went on with contemptuous quiet- 
ness, ” unless I prove you to be in the wrong — 
on Wednesday. Or is the possibility of my 
presence on the English rink so distasteful to 
you that you intend to sit in judgment on me 
yourself? ” 

The innuendo was unmistakable. Flutter-by 
36 


The Davosers 

ground his teeth under it, but he held himself 
well in hand as he said, with an assumption of 
boyish dignity that became him very well : 

“If you can do what you have to do well 
enough, you will pass into the club, whoever is 
judging.” 

Then, turning on his heel, he moved quickly 
away. 

On the notable Wednesday, Flutter-by came 
up over the bank from the English rink and 
glided up to me as I was sitting on the seat by 
the Eisbahn. 

“ I’ve got out of judging,’’ he said. 

“ Then who’ll Miss Vansittart have? ’’ I 
asked with considerable interest. 

“ Jefferson and Boy. She ought to pass all 
right if she has them. You know old Jefferson 
always thinks any woman’s good enough to 
get through on her sex, and Boy — well. Boy’s 
straight enough, of course, but he’s always too 
easy, and you can’t pretend he’s wholly disin- 
terested.’’ 

“ H’m; if he does fail her after having sent 

37 


The Davosers 

her up himself, I should say Miss Vansittart 
would be annoyed — and let him know it.” 

Flutter-by shrugged his shoulders. ” Well, 
thank heaven I’m out of it! All the same, it’s 
pretty sickening. These things should be above 
suspicion, else it lets down the club.” 

” Herries! ” A ruddy, spectacled face 
appeared over the bank, and old Jefferson 
shouted : 

” Look there, you must come and judge. 
There’s no one else.” 

” Get Bartram."” 

” Miss Vansittart doesn’t want to have him, 
because he’s been coaching her.” 

Flutter-by strolled up to the bank. ” I think 
she would have an even greater objection to me,” 
he said stiffly. 

Old Jefferson looked at him over his glasses. 
” Oh, nonsense, nonsense,” he said genially. 
” We all know you’re above suspicion. Fine- 
looking girl, though, isn’t she? ” And with 
this amiable and appropriate remark he dis- 
appeared, leaving Flutter-by to follow all un- 
willingly. 


38 


The Davosers 

I Stayed where I was for a few moments of 
indecision, then, giving way to my curiosity, I 
stood on the steps and looked across to the 
English rink. Miss Vansittart had evidently 
made no protest, for Flutter-by was standing with 
old Jefferson watching her. I looked on 
anxiously. She did her edges creditably, but 
without distinction. Hardly up to the club 
standard, I thought, for she was not sure enough 
of her balance to skate with any of the fine 
abandon that makes for grace. Then she began 
doing her eight. The first time she was nearly 
successful ; I could see that she was horribly 
embarrassed by the necessity of keeping her 
arms down. It baulked her to have to fix her 
mind on this, instead of being free to think only 
of the figure. The second time she failed 
ignominously, and old Jefferson called out 
warningly: “ Only once more, Miss Van- 
sittart.’* 

She bit her lip and pulled herself together. 
Then she started off strongly, but at the curve 
she swayed a little, then unconsciously she 
lifted her arms as a bird lifts its wings for 
39 


The Davosers 

flight, and, so poised, swung round triumph- 
antly and swooped on. 

I caught my breath, for I knew the pretty 
movement would condemn her. As Miss Van- 
sittart skated off to the further end of the rink 
and pulled up near to me, while the two judges 
conferred together. I could see the elder man 
was making depreciating suggestions, but 
Flutter-by remained grimly unrelenting, and at 
last old Jefferson left him. 

“ Er — Miss Vansittart^” he began nervously, 
^ he came up to her, “I’m afraid Mr Herries 
— that is to say, I mean that I regret to have 
to tell you that you have not satisfied the 
judges.’’ 

“ Isn’t it beastly sickening,” groaned Flutter- 
by as we were coming up the steep snow slope 
from the rink. “ There goes my only chance 
of a partner for the waltzing. And I believe 
she must be an awfully ripping girl, too, or she 
wouldn’t have refused to have Boy. It is rotten 
bad luck! ” 

He lowered his voice, for Miss Vansittart was 
40 


The Davosers 

coming up behind us, and he stood aside, with 
averted eyes, to let her pass; but she slackened 
her pace as she nodded to me, saying: 

“ So you were right, Mr Eyre.’* And she 
tilted her chin aggressively. 

“ I would much rather have been wrong,** I 
answered quickly. 

“ What a concession! ** she mocked, but I 
think she had heard that the conventional words 
rang true. 

Then Flutter-by broke in : “ Look here. Miss 
Vansittart,** he blurted out unhappily, “ I am 
most awfully sorry about this, but I could not 
help it. I did my level best to get out of 
judging you — and you could have objected to 
me if you’d liked, but, as you didn’t, I had to 
do what I thought right, and, on my honour, I 
couldn’t have let you through, though I wanted 
to badly enough, I can tell you.” 

Her lip curled. ” Did you think I should 
bear malice? ” 

” Not if I really thought you believed that it 
was because I honestly didn’t think you ‘good 
enough. But ” 


41 


The Davosers 

“Well? But ?” 

“You gave me to understand that you 
thought I had a personal spite against you.” 

“What things I do sayl ” reflected Miss 
Vansittart sadly. “ Mr Herries, I am a little 
beast, but I’m honest. To tell you the truth, 
I’ve been trying to work myself up into a passion 
over it, but I can only manage to respect you all 
the more for sticking to your convictions.” 

Flutter-by coloured with pleasure. “It is 
most awfully decent of you to say that,” said he 
gratefully. 

“ Dear me! how relieved you sound. Was 
I really so abominable as all that? ” Then, 
smiling alluringly, “ I must try to show you 
how really charming I can be.” 

“ Begin by going in for the waltzing with 
me,” suggested Flutter-by audaciously. 

Her eyes danced with mischief. “ If you 
think I’m good enough,” she answered meekly. 

“Good enough!” echoed Flutter-by deris- 
ively. “ Miss Vansittart, you make me feel 
young and uncommonly foolish. Good enough, 
indeed! ” 


42 


The Davosers 

“ Well, I thought that was why you didn’t 
ask me long ago. I’ve been very much hurt 
about it,” she said, pouting. 

Flutter-by put his hand to his forehead. 
” Oh, Lord,” he said feebly. ”... Well, 
never mind that now. You’re my partner, and 
we’ll give Boy and Nita fits.” 

Which they did. 


43 


Ill 

Gerda Vansittart was only out for the Christ- 
mas holidays, and after she had gone Flutter-by 
said that he was sick of skating and the ever- 
lasting rink. He told me moodily that he 
would like to chuck it altogether only there was 
nothing else to do. Therefore, when Miss 
Thrupp asked him to be No. 2 on her bobsleigh ^ 
“ La Fl^che,” which was entered for the Man- 
chester Bowl — the blue riband of the snows — he 
accepted the invitation with grateful enthusiasm. 
Certainly when he first came out Rittner had 
said perhaps he had better not toboggan, but 
Flutter-by argued that that was some time ago, 
when he was not nearly so fit as he was now. 
He did not, however, risk asking permission, 
but by dint of slinking round corners and hiding 
behind bookcases whenever Rittner was in the 
44 


The Davosers 

hotel he managed to avoid an encounter and 
the consequent embarrassing inquiries. In the 
meanwhile, he was not a little pleased at being 
asked to ride for a well-known sportswoman 
like Maud Thrupp; one of the very few of her 
sex who cared to steer a racing bob down the 
Klosters Road. She had raced her bob “ Flying 
Fox for several seasons, and had always 
secured a place, though she had only taken the 
Cup one year; but, in spite of her repute, and 
the fact that Boy Bartram was braking “ La 
Fl^che,” her new machine was not much 
fancied. 

But Flutter-by was delighted with the bob. 
He persuaded me to walk out to the Clavadel 
Run one evening to see her come down. And, 
as I was curious to hear an expert’s opinion 
of “ La Fl^che,” which up to the present seemed 
to be rather a dark horse, I got Captain Whyte 
to go with me. 

We had walked some little way up the course 
before we saw “ La Fl^che ” come rushing down 
from above. Then, as the crew sang out warn- 
ingly: “ Ach-tungl Ash-too-oon I ” we stepped 
45 


The Davosers 

off the hard-rolled snow of the road into the 
soft drifts that bordered it; out of the way of 
the oncoming bobsleigh; and then, looking up 
the run, we watched the crew of ** La Fl^che ” 
as the bob bore down upon us. 

There were four of them sitting one behind 
the other — first Miss Thrupp with the steering 
ropes taut in her clenched hands and her feet 
braced against the bob’s front; Flutter-by’s 
eager brown face looked over her shoulder ; 
Nita Bryant’s red head peered round his elbow, 
while behind her again was Boy Bartram, lean- 
ing back to put on the brake as they slowed 
down for rounding an elbow corner. When 
they neared it, the steerswoman’s set face grew 
a thought more tense, and her steady gaze more 
fixed, as, grinding her teeth, she concentrated 
every fibre of will and muscle on her work. 
“By Jove, what a girl!’’ muttered Whyte 
admiringly. “ Made of steel and leather, and 
cool-headed as though her brains were packed 
in ice.’’ 

“ Lean.’’ 

As the word sprang out of the steerswoman’s 

46 


The Davosers 

mouth she obeyed her own command, tugging 
at one rope as she and her crew swayed to the 
right; the white-clad arms of Nos. 2 and 3 shot 
out and brushed the snow, giving bias to the 
bob, which curved obediently outwards, then 
curled to the left and swung triumphantly round 
the corner, swooping onwards so swiftly that 
the next instant all we could see was four 
sweater-clad backs bending to their work as “ La 
Fl^che ” tore down the mountain side. “ They 
shape all right? ’* I voiced the question respect- 
fully, for Whyte is an authority on winter sport. 

“ Uncommonly well. She’s drilled ’em pretty 
mercilessly.” 

” Has ‘La Fl^che ’ a chance for the Man- 
chester Cup? Most people seem to think she’s 
a bit light.” 

It was then the heyday of the heavy ” Arosa ” 
bob, and Whyte frowned as he drew his mous- 
tache thoughtfully between his finger and thumb. 

” Depends on the course,” he said at length. 
” If it’s very fast she’s out of it; weight’s bound 
to tell. But if it’s a bit slow, it’s practically a 
sure thing for her; they’ll get her over the soft 
47 


The Davosers 

places where the heavier bobs will stick. 

And ** he looked up at the sky and the 

brown storm-vogel flying across it. We’re 
going to have more snow, but there’s plenty of 
time for the run to get fairly hard again before 

the race, and then ” his frown gathered 

into deeper puckers. “ She’s picked her crew 
too light. They want more weight forward; I 
told her so the other day. Now, if Flutter-by 
could put on another couple of stone — well, I’d 
make a bid for ‘ La Fl^che ’ at the sweepstake 
myself. I believe there’s a future for the light 
bob.” 

And no later than that same evening, I had 
reason to remember these words, for Flutter-by 
came to my room almost pale under his tan 
with a look in his eyes that showed me that 
something had gone wrong even before he said 
tersely — ” I’m chucked I ” 

” What d’you mean? ” 

” Miss Thrupp’s turned me off the bob.” 

” What I after all the time you’ve given up 
from your skating and spoiling your chance of 

getting through your first test this season? ” 

48 


The Davosers 

Flutter-by gave a short, hard laugh. “ That’s 
nothing to her.” 

” But why? ” I asked blankly, then as \ 
spoke I recalled what Whyte had said about 
the crew being too light. 

” That’s what hurts. You know that day 
last week I tobogganed down the Schatzalp 
with her and Nita. Well, Nita and I got down 
first, and — er — you know how the ripping sort 
of excitement you feel and how your face glows 
after rushing through the cold air. Anyway, 
Nita said her cheeks felt like strawberry ices, so 
of course I had to say, ‘ That’s my favourite 
sort.’ And then the little monkey gave me 
such a look over her shoulder, and then ” 

I could picture him helping himself to a long 
soft lingering kiss from Nita’s pink cheek as 
well as though I had been Miss Thrupp, who it 
seems had seen them from a bend in the course 
above. 

” The mean thing is that she never said any- 
thing about it at the time, but now she suddenly 
rounds on me. Says Nita’s out here in her 
charge and she’s not going to have any heart- 
49 D 


The Davosers 

less flirt trifling with her affections — spoke as 
if I were a blackguard — said — well — some 
beastly things. Can’t think where she got the 
notion I was such a sweep.” 

“ H’m.” I was too busy thinking even to 
sympathise with him. 

“ Who’ll she get to take your place? ” 

He laughed bitterly. ” She was long- 
headed enough to have arranged for that before 
chucking me. Though why she wanted to have 
St John Mostyn, who does not even know how 
to sit on a bob, I don’t know.” 

But I knew. For the gentleman who was 
distinguished in the visitors’ list as ” Everard 
St John Mostyn, Ditchcombe, England,” 
though a deliberately young man, was verging 
on portly forty. 

” He’s a couple of stone heavier than you 
are,” said I quietly; then I told Flutter-by 
what Captain Whyte had said. He thought it 
over in hurt silence, and when he spoke again 
there was an indignant tremble in his voice. 

” If she’d have put it to me straight, ‘ We 
haven’t enough weight on the bob,’ I wouldn’t 

50 


The Davosers 

have minded. But to use my kissing Nita for 
an excuse — Oh, hang it all, it’s playing it too 
low down. Why couldn’t she have told me the 
truth? ” 

That was what Nita Bryant wanted to know; 
and that same night in the fastness of Miss 
Thrupp’s room she insisted, with all the vehe- 
mence and abandon of a red-haired personality 
in a rage and a scarlet dressing-gown, on being 
answered. What she said was equally rude 
and truthful, but Miss Thrupp held herself well 
in hand. 

“ My dear,” she said with an unmoved face, 
” if I’d told young Herries that I only wanted 
to get rid of him to have that horrid fat old 
thing on the bob, it would have been sure to 
have got round to Mr Mostyn, and that would 

never have done. He’s ” 

Nita’s cheeks flamed. ” Maud,” she gasped, 

” you never told Mr Mostyn about ” 

” No, I didn’t,” said Miss Thrupp impa- 
tiently. ” I simply said that Tony Herries was 
amusing himself with you, and that you were 

51 


The Davosers 

such a child, I was afraid you might 
think he meant something. I was only going 
to remark that he is very sensitive about his 
size.” 

“ I’ll tell him he’s corpulent said Nita with 
a vicious snap of her teeth. “ He iSy and I hate 
him — and Boy simply loathes him. I shouldn’t 
be surprised if he doesn’t leave the bob. He’s 
sure to be wild at the way you’ve treated 
Flutter-by — and then what’ll you do, I’d like 
to know? You won’t get anybody else to brake 
‘ La Fl^che ’ in a hurry. She’s a brute — 
smashes your fingers all to pieces.” 

” If Boy fails me, I shouldn’t even think it 
worth while to enter for the race,” said Miss 
Thrupp, coolly, ” but he won’t. If he heard 
the truth about Flutter-by he might, but who 
is going to tell him? You can’t, and Flutter- 
by’s too chivalrous to give you away. It’s 
safe enough.” 

“You seem to have worked it all out,” said 
Nita sullenly. 

“To five places of decimals,” was the cool 
reply. Nita raised her eyebrows ironically. 

52 


The Davosers 

“ I shouldn’t have thought the Manchester 
Cup was worth it.” 

” It isn’t.” 

‘‘You surely don’t want Sin jin Mostyn for 
himself alone. I can’t think what you want to 
have the bounder for at all,” she grumbled. 
‘‘ He is a bounder. I’d rather have honest 
vulgarity than that affected gentility of his ; he’s 
such an awful humbug. He’s not a ‘ Varsity ’ 
man, yet he rolls his words in his throat like a 
Balliol prig. And he’s not one of the Mostyns, 
because I asked him. I shouldn’t be a bit 
surprised if it weren’t an assumed name.” Nita 
paused to consider her sudden idea, and fell in 
love with it. ‘‘ Can you imagine his godfathers 
and godmothers chancing on anything that was 
going to hit him off so exactly as Everahd Sinjin 
Mostyn? And any decent man that has been 
given a fantastic name like that would be 
ashamed of it, and not swagger it out in full 
in the visitors’ list, but Everahd Sinjin Mostyn 
is a self-named man and proud of it.” 

‘‘ Very likely,” said Miss Thrupp indiffer- 
ently, ‘‘ and if he had a hideous name he was 
53 


The Davosers 

quite right to change it.” Then, looking at the 
wall, she said with great deliberation, “Mrs 
— Everard — St — John Mostyn.” 

Nita’s mouth dropped open, and she gave a 
little scream of horror. 

“ What! Maud! You’re never thinking of 
marrying him.” 

“ I am,” said Miss Thrupp quietly, then her 
face relaxed into a grimly humorous smile, “ but 
he is not aware of it as yet.” 

Nita sat down. “ I think you’d better tell the 
whole of this,” she said, rather threateningly. 

Maud Thrupp drew herself up, and, standing 
opposite the glass, looked defiance at the reflec- 
tion of her own hard face. She had a fine 
figure, and, though she was neither handsome 
nor beautiful, she somehow contrived to give 
the impression that she was good-looking. Her 
deep-set golden brown eyes had the colour and 
clearness of champagne, and were slightly 
tinged with green round the pupils, but behind 
their shallow transparency was a look of stead- 
fast purpose and indomitable resolve. They 
were curious eyes and not good to meet. 

54 


The Davosers 

Tm thirty-three, and I’ve been earning my 
own living ever since I was turned out into the 
world at nineteen without a penny.” (She seemed 
to be speaking to herself and the world at large 
rather than to Nita). “I’m a good business 
woman but I had no capital, so I became a hack 
journalist; I am one still, and I’ll never be any- 
thing more — and I’m tired of it. I’ve used all 
my will and all my wits to fend for myself. It 
was a mistake. I thought the men who work 
in the ranks with me would respect my inde- 
pendence. They only sneered. I thought the 
men who employed me would encourage me. 
They beat me down and paid me what they 
would not have dared to offer a man. So I 
mean to marry — well. Plenty of women are 
driven to the same resolve, and their hungry eyes 
devour every male thing that crosses their path. 
That doesn’t do. A woman may slave to be 
an artist, musician or actress, but even though 
she has made up her mind that her only happi- 
ness is to be found in matrimony, she mayn’t lift 
a finger to be a wife. No, she must look at 
every man without seeing the husband in him, 
55 


The Davosers 

just as children try to look at a piebald horse 
without seeing its tail. She must not show her 
hand ; all the world despises her if her cards are 
seen and no one more utterly than the woman 
who is playing the same game, but has not been 
found out.” The bitter tirade neither shocked 
nor surprised Nita, she only wanted to know 
one thing. ” But why him? ” she demanded 
pertinently. ” Who is he? ” 

“Who^o he?” echoed Miss Thrupp con- 
temptuously. ” Don’t be so girlie-girlie, Nita. 
Vve got to the second stage. I want to know, 
‘ What has he ’? ” 

” But you don’t know that either,” said 
Nita, practically. ” And you do meet the 
queerest people at hotels. You really ought to 
be careful. Do you even know if he pays his 
bill? ” 

” I know all I want to know about him,” said 
her friend with quiet emphasis. 

Nita’s eyes rounded. ” How? ” 

” Never mind.” 

The hint of mystery had the desired effect of 
making Nita wild with curiosity. Miss Thrupp 

56 


The Davosers 

suffered her entreaties for a few minutes, and 
then she said: 

Look here, I’m going to tell you, because 
I want you to help me.” 

” That’s you, all over,” said Nita, injuredly. 
” Well? ” 

Miss Thrupp paused dramatically before she 
uttered the one mysterious word. 

” Grubbles.” 

” Grubbles! ” Nita stared blankly. ” What 
are Grubbles? Patent pills? ” 

” Grubbles,” said her friend quietly, ” is an 
inquiry agent. I often use him when I’m owed 
money to find out whether the firm can’t or 
won’t pay. He finds out their financial stand- 
ing. You see, Mr Mostyn was confiding 
enough to sign his full name, and I happened 
to know that there’s only one Ditchcombe — a 
little speck of a place in Devonshire — so I wrote 
and asked whether he was sufficiently well-to-do 
to conveniently meet a business debt of a thou- 
sand pounds, and if he had any private means. 
This is the reply.” 

Nita’s chest heaved, but she took the slip 

57 


The Davosers 

of paper and read the following typewritten 
words : — 

“ With regard to E. St J. M. of D. we find 
that he is the head of a very prosperous London 
firm of the highest commercial integrity. He 
has a considerable private income, and both 
his business and his personal estate could meet 
a much larger liability than the sum you men- 
tion without financial embarrassment.” 

Nita was so silent that Miss Thrupp demanded 
impatiently: “ Well, isn’t that right enough? ” 

” I suppose so,” said Nita, unwillingly. ” I 
don’t like it though. Oh, Maud I if he were to 
find out that you’d written I Think of the awful 
mortification I ” 

” My dear, Grubbles is absolutely confiden- 
tial. It would ruin them not to be. Anything 
else? ” 

Nita considered the strip of paper with dis- 
tasteful reluctance. 

” I notice it doesn’t state the nature of this 
highly respectable firm. Maud, he may be a 
pawnbroker — or a music pirate — or a fried fish 
shop I ” 


58 


The Davosers 

“ They’re all paying businesses.” 

Nita gave a despairing shrug of her shoulders. 
” What is it you want me to do? ” she asked. 

” To manage Boy. He won’t be pleased I 
know, but he’ll do anything for you if you ask 
him nicely. I can do the rest. He likes me. 
I let him talk; all of him that isn’t egotism is 
vanity — he thinks that he has a temperament 
and a soul — also that I appreciate him. He’s 
immensely flattered at being asked to ride in 
the race — he thinks himself a sportsman — and 
he’ll see me at my best on the bob. It’ll all 
come right; he’s half-committed himself already. 
Nita, do. It all fails if I lose Boy. Perhaps 
it isn’t ‘ nice,’ but once I’ve put this through 
I’ll be good ever after. I’ll be womanly. I’ll 
never do another stroke for myself, but just lie 
on a sofa in a trailing tea-gown and cherish 
ideals. Nita you must.'' 

” Maud, I don't like it! I won’t have any- 
thing to do with it. I’ll ” 

” I don’t see what you can do, except oS 
course, tell Mr Mostyn everything,” said Miss 
Thrupp in a curious, even tone. ” But there’s 
59 


The Davosers 

no reason why you shouldn’t do that. I never 
made you promise not to. I shan’t even 
threaten to tell Boy you made eyes at Flutter- 
by till he kissed you.” 

” I didnH! ” burst out Nita furiously. ” I 
did not! And oh, there was nothing in it. It 
was just fun and excitement.” She gave a 
naughty smile at the remembrance of it. ” It 
was such a nice one,” she said with a dreamy 
sigh, ” just long enough to be complimentary 
but not to be frightening, warm enough to send 
a glow through you, but not to burn : so soft 

that you barely felt it, but ” she brushed 

her cheek tenderly with the back of her hand. 
” It’s there still.” 

‘‘You can explain that to Boy afterwards,” 
drily remarked Miss Thrupp. 

Nita weakened. Boy had no right — but he 
had a queer temper — the thing had been entirely 
harmless, still, told unkindly 

She gave a sigh of desperation. 

‘‘ Maud, it’s perfectly wicked how you corner 
people! Me, Boy, Flutter-by, the poor wretch 

himself : you make us all work out your ends.” 

6o 


The Davosers 

And then an unpleasantly satisfied light 
gleamed in Maud Thrupp’s queer eyes. 

All went well. Flutter-by kept silence; Boy 
was coaxed into a good temper, and my pious 
hope that the race would have to be run on a 
course like a feather-bed when every superfluous 
ounce of Mostyn would be a dead-weight was 
not fulfilled. The day dawned gloriously 
and the run was fairly fast — almost fast — just 
right for “ La Fl^che ” with her present 
crew. 

Miss Thrupp surveyed them with a pleased 
eye. The tiny real arrows worn jauntily like 
quills at the side of the cap were really effective ; 
but the thick clinging jersey with the black 
device slashed athwart the chest, that so well 
set off Boy and Nita’s slim youth — was it only 
the memory of Tony Herries’ lithe grace, or 
was it a little trying to a riper figure? 

Mostyn had been giving himself great airs — 
it was impossible for him to do anything with- 
out bragging — but he had been a docile pupil, 
and Miss Thrupp had relied on this very con- 
ceit when she believed that he would acquit 

6i 


The Davosers 

himself well. After all he had nothing to do 
but keep his head and obey orders: she and 
Boy would win the race. 

All was satisfactory, too, as regards the other 
affair. 

Since joining “ La Fl^che,” and seeing the 
magnificent way the steerswoman handled the 
bob, Mostyn’s devotion had grown apace, and 
only the evening before, after much flowery pre- 
amble, he had been about to declare himself 
when they were interrupted, whereon he had 
told her with pompous haste that he had some- 
thing to ask her and begged that she would 
give him an early opportunity of saying it. 
The crew were invited to her room for the cus- 
tomary “ consolation ” tea after the race, so 
she made Nita promise to take Boy out on to 
the balcony and keep him there till Mostyn had 
had time to put the question. But this morning 
he was not himself ; his head drooped dejectedly 
between his hunched shoulders, he seemed 
thoroughly disturbed and uneasy, and she 
thought his taking a letter out of his pocket 

and studying it furtively was a feint to conceal 
62 


The Davosers 

his tremors. Boy muttered contemptuously that 
the beggar was in a blue funk. 

Maud Thrupp was a sportswoman to the very 
marrow, and this seeming cowardice revolted 
her. Thinking only of the race she forgot the 
husband and even the man. He was merely 
No. 2 of her crew. She spoke to him sharply, 
but instead of starting and apologising, he gave 
her a peculiar look which rather disconcerted 
her. 

The bobs went down one by one each racing 
against time: “ La Fl^che ** was the fifth, and 
the four which preceded her, including the for- 
midable “ Rosy Rambler,” had all done badly. 
Miss Thrupp *s heart beat high as she took her 
place and they whizzed away. The bob did the 
course magnificently. No. 2 seemed to have 
pulled himself together for he ” bobbed ” and 
” leaned ” as obediently as Nita herself, while 
all the thought the steerswoman had to spare 
from her work was occupied in thanking heaven 
for a ” brake ” so skilled and sure as Boy 
Bartram. 

Now the Klosters Run ends with the worst 

63 


The Davosers 

“ elbow ** on the course, the notorious Cab- 
bage Garden Corner, where, unless the bob 
takes it cleverly, a disastrous spill occurs. The 
temptation in racing is to slow dowm as little 
as possible, but unless the bob makes a very 
wide sweep she hits the snow bank and, forced 
up it by her own impetus, is jerked over the 
wall. 

As Maud Thrupp had instructed Boy to wait 
until the latest possible moment before putting 
on the brake, they had hardly slackened when 
she shouted “ Lean.** And then Mostyn must 
have lost his head, for, with a mighty lunge he 
leaned the wrong way — to the right instead of 
the left. The bob swerved and rocked as in a 
moment he saw his mistake and tried to throw 
his weight to the other side, while the steers- 
woman pulled wildly at her ropes, and Boy and 
Nita stretched themselves nearly on to the 
snow in their efforts to give the bob the lost 
bias. But it was too late. There was a soft 
thud as they collided with the bank — a bump 
as “ La Fl^che ** humped herself over and flung 
her crew out into the Cabbage Garden. 

64 


The Davosers 

Maud Thrupp lay face downwards, numb with 
the pain of the hideous, internal wrench she had 
given herself in her efforts to right the bob, but 
the contracting pain gradually relaxed and, 
aided by the crestfallen Mostyn, she got on her 
feet again. Nita was standing among a little 
crowd having the snow beaten off her skirt and 
shoulders, while Boy with his face fixed in a 
grin of agony, lay propped against some man’s 
shoulder, having a dislocated thumb pulled into 
its socket, and when the operation was per- 
formed he rolled over and quietly fainted. 

There was no hope of going on; “La 
Fl^che ’’ was out of it. They had lost the race. 

At four o’clock the pArtie carrde assembled in 
Miss Thrupp’s room for tea and consolation. 
Unfortunately she was not well prepared with 
the latter article, and her extemporary offering 
was none too graciously received by Boy, who 
arrived with his arm in a sling, fresh from the 
cheerful task of scratching all engagements for 
the rest of the season. 

“ It was not your fault of course,” he said 

sullenly, for his thumb was aching badly, “ but 
65 E 


The Davosers 

it’s the sort of thing that may be expected when 
you swap a good man for a rotter,” and he 
scowled at Mostyn, who entered just as he had 
vented this. The elder man was subdued and 
embarrassed to an extent that infected Maud 
Thrupp with nervousness. She was no be- 
liever in omens, but she was conscious that she 
would have felt more confident if she had won 
the race. 

Boy could not make out why the lot of them 
were so stupid. 

He had been inclined to chuck the whole thing 
and had come only to enjoy the sweetness of 
being ministered unto by Nita, and here she 
was furtively watching the Sinjin beast, instead 
of aiding the efforts of the one-handed. He 
was somewhat appeased when she decoyed him 
out on to the balcony, where he told her his 
woes and she cooed her sympathy. 

As Miss Thrupp had closed the doors of the 
double French windows on Boy and Nita, she 
groaned within herself. This sentimental 
business was not in her line and she set her 

teeth as she forced herself to sit still and let 
66 


The Davosers 

Mostyn make the running without attempting 
to prompt or assist in any way. But he would 
not break the excruciating silence by making a 
beginning. 

“ Mr Mostyn 

She waited for him to say Call me 
Everahd,” and mentally repeated, “ Oh, Ever- 
ahd so as not to let slip an involuntary 
“ Idiot.” Other women have put a like re- 
straint upon themselves. 

But he said nothing, and she felt the sluggish 
situation required prodding. 

‘‘You had something to say to me.” 

He was fairly twitching with nervousness as 
he answered : 

‘‘ After this morning’s most disastrous 
blunder — ah — I feel I have no right — ah! ” 

She swallowed down an exasperated word. 
What altogether absurd contrition ! 

‘‘ On the contrary — not at all. I should have 
abandoned the race altogether if you had not 
kindly taken Mr Herries’ place. I was only 
too glad to get a raw hand — you — anyone.” 

‘‘ Your kindness overwhelms me. Believe 

67 


The Davosers 

me I should not have lost my head as I did, if 

circumstances — if I had not ” 

“ Well? 

“ Miss Thrupp, I cannot explain myself. I 
leave Davos early to-morrow. Allow me to 
make my adieux now.** 

“ Considering what you have said to me, I 
think I have the right to ask you the meaning 
of this sudden change of plan.** 

“ Miss Thrupp, I might say to you ** He 

paused, “ but I will not.** 

“ Mr Mostyn, this is really very remarkable 
conduct.** 

It is indeed.** 

“ Then I am to understand that you have 
nothing to ask me? ** 

“ There is a question— not the original one — 
but I would prefer not to put it to you.** 

“ Mr Mostyn, I insist.** 

If you will have it,** he bowed formally. . . . 

“ Do I owe you a thousand pounds? ** 

The question stunned her like a blow. What 
did it mean? It meant — it meant that he had 
found her out. 


68 


The Davosers 

And then the two came in from the bal- 
cony. 

The sun had gone behind the mountains and 
it had grown very cold, so Boy had soon said : — 
“ Look here, there isn’t going to be anything 
of a sky to-night. I’m going in.” 

” Oh, Boy, don’t! Listen,” said Nita desper- 
ately, then with a significant look — ” You 
mustn’t.” 

Boy’s eyebrows mounted towards his hair. 
” Is that so? Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not 
going to freeze out here for fear of stopping that 
bounder’s canoodling. I shan’t be able to hold 
anyone’s hand for weeks, hang him,” and he 
pushed his way through the windows. 

But it was no love scene he broke in upon. 
He saw an angry woman with a drawn white 
face defiantly confronting an elderly man, who 
seemed to have sloughed his gentility as he 
stood there stiff and awkward, but determined. 
Boy did what any gentleman — even a sulky one 
would have done — he walked straight across 
the room and out of it. 

An instant thought leapt into being in Maud 
69 


The Davosers 

Thrupp’s mind. Nita — wicked Nita — that little 
baby Nita — had told! 

Her yellow eyes blazed green fire at the girl 
in the window. 

Then Mostyn spoke again and with more 
assurance : 

“ Miss Thrupp, I do not suggest that you 
should answer me. In fact I would rather you 
did not. If Miss Bryant is in your confidence, 

I appeal to her.’* 

Maud Thrupp’s mind leapt to a new conclu- 
sion. 

Then Nita had not betrayed her I Why — 
then — how — how ? 

Never mind that now. Face him. Fight. 
Lie. 

She drew herself up and said haughtily, 
“ Miss Bryant is as ignorant as I am as to what 
your most remarkable question can mean.” 

Nita closed her eyes, and breathing a sigh of 
relief she resolved, whatever happened, to stick 
to the tale that she knew nothing. 

When she opened them again she saw Mostyn 

drawing his letter-case from the inner pocket of 
70 


The Davosers 

his coat. He took from it a paper, which he 
handed to Miss Thrupp. It was her own letter 
to Messrs Grubbles. 

“ I usually prefer not to be troubled with 
business letters while on the Continent; but — 
after some hesitation and delay — this was for- 
warded to me — I received it this morning. And 
— ^since I am certainly not in your debt, I am at 
a loss to determine what interest my pecuniary 
affairs can have for you.” 

As he spoke she realised with bitter intuition 
that the vanity she had played on was her un- 
doing. This man would have forgiven anything 
rather than the slight to his personal value. 
She could not imagine how the letter had got 
into his hands, but since he had it — all was over. 
There remained but the last resort of the fury- 
goaded woman — vitriol. 

“No wonder,” she sneered, ” Messrs 
Grubbles were so willing to vouch, for the in- 
tegrity of your firm,” she drew in her breath 
between her clenched teeth, “ since their 
notion of honour is to betray the confidence of 
their clients by handing over private letters.” 

71 


The Davosers 

“ The letter came to me by perfectly legiti- 
mate means, and the firm of Messrs Grub- 
bles 

“ Is — I grant you — ^as honourable as your 
own.** 

“ Madam, I,** he bowed, “ AM Grubbles,** 
and with another bow he left the room. 


72 


IV 

“ Here ye may see that wymen be 
In love, meke, kind and stable : 

So let not man reprove them than, 

Or call them variable : 

But rather pray God that we may, 

To them be comfortable.” 

— The Nut Browne Mayde. 

Flutter-by brooded over his grievance against 
Miss Thrupp. She had flicked him on the raw, 
for she had doubted his honour both as a sports- 
man and a gentleman. If we had known the 
true story and the disastrous ending of the 
matter, it would have made a difference, but it 
was not until long after that I heard the tale 
from Boy, who had badgered all he was not 
privy to out of Nita Bryant, on the specious 
plea that since he knew so much he might as 
well be told the rest. 

In the meanwhile Flutter-by raged against the 
underhand trick she had played him; he could 
73 


The Davosers 

not forgive her for having deliberately traded 
on the chivalry, which she very well knew would 
check him from betraying her, in order to shield 
Nita Bryant. Therefore, I judged it was the 
time which the little typist had thought might 
come when I was to tell him what she had said 
to me. 

“ Mr Eyre I— oh, Mr Eyre! ” 

A little gasp checked the frightened voice 
which thus addressed me from behind my back, 
as I turned round from the bookcase to face the 
speaker. 

The girl’s plain, dull face coloured distress- 
fully, and though she had locked her fingers to- 
gether in her efforts to control the nervous 
twisting of her hands she could not keep them 
still. I could see that she was more than half- 
sorry that I had heard her, and guessed that it 
had needed no mean effort for her to bring her- 
self to commit the enormity of speaking to a man 
who, though for three weeks her fellow-guest 
at the Hotel Schiahorn, had never spoken to 
her. She looked anxiously into my face; there 
74 


The Davosers 

was something pathetic in the way her short- 
sighted eyes sought to peer through the haze 
of their own dim vision that moved me to a 
swift, courteous reply. 

“ Did you want to speak to me? ** 

She seemed almost overwhelmed with relief. 

“ Oh,** she said, involuntarily, “ when you 
look like that I can*t believe you *re as detestable 
as the things you say.** 

I was not well pleased with this tribute to 
my mordant humour, so I explained. “ Don’t 
you know that a cynic is merely a man who is 
trying to conceal the fact that he is an egregious 
sentimentalist? ** 

She pondered my dark saying, but without 
illumination, then she began again hastily, “ I 
only wanted to ask you to be so very kind as 
to say good-bye to Mr Herries for me.** 

“ But are you going — to-day? I thought the 
Professor was here for the winter.** 

“ Oh, yes, he is; but he*s sending me away, 
because — well, you see, he wrote to the Agency 
to engage a typist to come out to Davos with 
him and — it was very good of the Secretary— 
75 


The Davosers 

she Sent me instead of a better girl, because she 
knew I’d been ill. And he isn’t satisfied with 
me — I do make mistakes, but his manuscripts 
are such awful scrawls, and he corrects and cor- 
rects till I can’t make anything out of them. 
Such words I — scientific, you know. And he’s 
found a man who he thinks will do better, and, 
of course, it will be cheaper. You see, he’s got 
to pay my return fare, anyway. . . . And about 
Mr Herries. He asked me to say good-bye to 
him after lunch, but the Professor kept me, and 
when I got away he’d gone down to the rink. 
Will you tell him I didn’t forget? I wouldn’t 
like him to think I had. He’s been so kind to 
me.” 

” Has he? ” 

” Oh, yes — though he doesn’t think so. 
When I tried to thank him, he opened his eyes 
ever so wide, as if he hadn’t heard right, and he 
said, ‘ Kind! Not a bit of it! ’ in that nice 
hearty way of his. But he has been kind; he’s 
often talked to me, and the other people don’t 
do that. You see, they’re mostly awfully swell, 

and they don’t think I’m good enough to know. 

76 


The Davosers 

I used to think all ladies were equal, but they’re 
not. The real ones aren’t the same as the ones 
that call themselves ladies in advertisements. 
And that’s the sort I am. But it’s rather lonely 
when you’ve got no one to speak to, and so 
you’re awfully grateful to anyone that takes 
just a little notice of you, especially when it’s 
someone that’s really one of the others, as he is.” 

I felt remorseful as I thought how little it 
would have cost me to have given her the same 
kindly, careless words in passing that had won 
this meed of thanks for Tony Herries. 

“I’m afraid you can’t have enjoyed your 
stay here very much. Believe me. I’m sorry.” 

” Oh, I have. It will be something to re- 
member all my life; just the place — the snow 
and the mountains and the sunshine. It’s so 
beautiful to me — I’d never seen anything like it 
and I couldn’t have imagined it. I’m not 
clever, you know; I’m not even a very good 
typist. But, now I’ve seen it all, I shall have 
the picture of it in my head and it will stay. 
There’s a girl who lives in the same house 
as I do. Our windows look out the same way, 
77 


The Davosers 

over a little yard with an ugly great warehouse 
opposite that shuts us in. If one could see out 
even, it would be something; we’d have the 
roofs and the sunset and the big, wide sky to 
look at. But there’s only the dingy, grimy 
wall and staring, blank windows — at least, that 
I can see. But she — the girl I was telling you 
about — when she’s standing at the window, you 
can see by the look in her eyes that she’s ever 
so far away, and that all the real things are 
shadows and the dream things are real. I like 
to watch her; she smiles without knowing it; 
little sparkles come into her eyes, and her 
cheeks are all pink like roses, and she doesn’t 
know she is tired and cold — and hungry some- 
times. She says she’s going to write a great 
book one day, but, even if she never does, I 
think she’s the happiest person I know. It 
doesn’t matter what happens to her, because 
she’s got the something that can’t be taken 
away. And I haven’t. I can’t dream things. 
It’s no good shutting my eyes; those hateful 
walls beat through my eyelids, and I seem to see 
them more plainly than ever, every crack and 

78 


The Davosers 

line of mortar and the dirt on the panes. . . . 
But now I shall always have this to think about 
— snow streets, snow roofs, snow fields all white, 
and the snow mountains very white against the 
blue; and the air — that makes you all glad and 
laughing. In our street the air’s stale and 
heavy, as if it were tired of being breathed so 
often — and there’s a dustbin in our yard. She 
— the girl — says people throw the dust and 
things into it and it throws them into the air; 
anyway it always seems to be full of the smell of 
cinders and broken egg-shells. But I shall re- 
member the smell of the snow, that isn’t a smell 
at all, only clean cold and freshness — oh! so 
pure. It will come back to me; I shall remem- 
ber it all.” 

They were so pathetic these pent-up confi- 
dences of weeks of silence that I had nothing to 
say. At last I asked : 

” Have you work to go back to? ” 

” Oh, yes,” she answered easily. ” I can 
always get through the Agency, though, of 
course, they don’t pay very well. It’s the 
Women Writers’ Association. I do a lot for 
79 


The Davosers 

them — mostly stories about the parson’s 
daughter and the squire’s son — for the sort of 
magazines that men don’t read. All about 
Love, with a capital L.” 

She gave a sorrowful little laugh before she 
went on absently. 

“ I should think I’ve typed that word a 
million times over. I got quite sick of it. 
L (click!) o (click!) v (click!) e (click! )f 
space.” She tapped it out on the table. “That 
was all it meant to me. I’d never had any- 
thing of that sort in my life — the things that 
happened to me were just as ugly and common 
as the places I’d lived in. But now I under- 
stand ” 

“ Yes? ” 

I think she hardly heard me, for she went 
on : 

“ He’s so gay and handsome, so — all that the 
heroes in stories are, that I couldn’t help — I 
mean — I — I — » — ’ ’ 

“ I see.’' 

She flushed most piteously. “ Oh I I didn’t 

mean you to guess. What must you think? ” 
8o 


The Davosers 

She dropped her face into her hands and spoke 
in a muffled voice from behind their shelter. 
“ You’ve been so kind — and I thought you were 
so horribly superior. I’d never have dreamt I 
could have told you all this, or that you’d have 
listened as though you were really interested.” 

” I am most interested — and honoured that 
you should have told me this. I’m only a little 
sorry — that — you ’ ’ 

” Oh, no. Please not. I’m glad, ever so 
glad.” She looked up eagerly. ” Did you — 
you think I’d be unhappy about his not caring? 
Why, that doesn’t matter! ” 

She paused to consider what she had said, 
and to think out what she must say to make me 
see what she meant; then she went on quietly, 
” I don’t think a man ever quite understands 
what a woman feels. She doesn’t need to be 
loved — only to love. That’s enough. I think 
it would break my heart if I thought I ought 
to stop caring; but there isn’t any reason why 
I should, is there? I shall never see him 
again. I can just go on all my life thinking of 
him and loving him more and more and know- 
81 F 


The Davosers 

ing that he’s worthy. It’s something to feel 
you haven’t thrown away what little you had. 
I’m much sorrier for the women who care for 
men who turn out mean, cruel, and oh I cads. 
He wouldn’t ever — would he? Don’t you see 
that just knowing that and — caring — makes 
something beautiful to comfort me, for me to 
keep all my life, like the memory of the moun- 
tains. Only better. You see? ” 

“ I’ve a dim sort of notion what you mean. 
But I think you’re right; a man can’t under- 
stand unselfishness like yours.” 

She glanced at the clock. ” I must go. 
Good-bye. Thank you so much.” 

She moved away and then paused. ” One 
thing more. Some day, perhaps— if the world 
should treat him badly, if it should be so un- 
grateful that he began to think it wasn’t worth 
while to go on being kind any more — I should 
like him to know— n_ot that I care — but how his 
kindness helped me. I think he’d be glad to 
know that. So, if you think it right, some day 
you may tell him. Good-bye, and thank you 
again. And you’ll remember? ” 

82 


The Davosers 

“ I will, indeed. Good-bye.” 

Before I had come to the end of the story 
Flutter-by’s eyes had lost their hardened look; 
and when he had heard it all his voice was very 
gentle as he said unsteadily : 

“Dear little girl! Dear, brave little soul! 
And I can’t even thank her! ” 


83 


y. 

** Where are the girls of yesterday? 

— If 1 were King. 

It was the next season, and when Boy Bartram, 
who was grieving over the coldness of a last 
year’s flame, put the question to us. Flutter-by 
answered promptly, “ Flirting with the men 
whose last season’s girls are flirting with us 
this winter.” 

You may take that as pretty near the truth, 
and this makes some parts of this adventure 
more credible and others more remarkable. I 
heard it from Flutter-by, who, as you will see, 
had no earthly right to have known anything 
about it, but he must be forgiven for the sake 
of what he did afterwards. Of course, all Davos 
knew about the letter that went the round of the 
hotels and was at last returned to whatever the 
Swiss call their Dead Letter Office. 

84 


The Davosers 

It bore the local postmark and was addressed 
to — 

R. (?) White, Esq., 

Hotel Alexandra, 

Davos-Platz. 

As no “ White ” was staying at the Alexan- 
dra that season, it was sent to the Bella Vista, 
where Bertie was staying with his people, who 
were out for Christmas. There it was given to 
old Ray White, who read it and passed it on to 
his son, who handed it to Captain Whyte, in 
the smoking-room, with the remark that his 
lady friend evidently hadn’t heard he’d been 
promoted. He then explained the joke to his 
companions. Captain Whyte told young Bertie 
he ought to be kicked, but disclaimed the letter, 
which ran thus: 

“ I saw you to-day opposite the Kurverein,” 
the writer stated, without any conventional be- 
ginning; “ but I think you did not see me. 
Didn’t you want to, I wonder, or would you 
like to renew our old acquaintance? 

“ But men are so fickle — perhaps you have 
forgotten even my name! Well, I will not 
remind you of it by signing this, for, unless you 
remember as I do, I could not bear to meet you 

85 


The Davosers 

again. But, if you still think of those days, 
meet me to-morrow evening at the old place.” 

The writing was so ordinary that it seemed 
as if all such marks of individuality as flour- 
ishes, thick strokes, and ornamental capitals had 
been purposely omitted lest they should betray 
the writer’s identity. There was no address; 
only the date ” 28th December.” 

It was next given to Bim White of the 
Britannique, but his reputation as an extremely 
quiet, sober fellow, gave credence to his denial, 
and the letter was passed on to a common little 
man on the next floor. By the* evening of that 
same day it had reached the Dishma Post, and 
Dr White was being unmercifully ragged in 
consequence of his embarrassment on being con- 
fronted with such a missive. He was the sort of 
elderly young man who would have been a 
dowdy prude if he had been a woman ; and the 
disrespectful youth of the hotel found an un- 
hallowed joy in the opportunity to taunt ” Old 
Jane ” with' a petticoat ” past.” Of course, no 
one really believed the letter was meant for him. 

The matter was discussed that evening in 
86 


The Davosers 

smoking-room and salon y and the general con, 
elusion was that either there was a mistake in 
the name or that the letter was meant for some 
White who was not “ out ” that winter. But 
Flutter-by, who was sleeping badly just then, 
pondered the matter in the night season, and 
evolved another theory. 

First, the woman had said plainly “ I saw you 
to-day.” Secondly, though her ignorance of 
the right initial was easily accounted for by the 
prevalence of nicknames in Davos (he remem- 
bered that he himself could not have given a 
Christian name to either Bim or Jane), it was 
almost impossible that she should not know the 
surname. His conviction was that one of the 
men who had disowned the letter had lied. 
” Bim,” ” Jane,” and the ” Little Bounder ” 
he dismissed as unlikely characters for a fond 
adventure; there was no earthly reason why old 
Ray White should have given up the letter if 
it had been meant for him, nor was it probable 
that Bertie would publish the contents of his 
own hillet-doux. On the other hand, if Captain 
Whyte had claimed it in the smoking-room he 

87 


The Davosers 

would have never heard the end of it. More- 
over, his past record would have been raked 
over; and, as he had fluttered round numerous 
candles by no means under a bushel, sundry 
ladies who had not sent the letter would have 
been mentioned, even if the real woman’s name 
were not disclosed. These reasons, he argued, 
were sufficient to prompt a man of the world not 
to betray himself or the letter-writer. 

So next day, when everyone else had forgotten 
the affair in the excitement of the bob races, 
Flutter-by bore in mind that it was the “ to- 
morrow ” when “ R. (?) White, Esq.,” was 
to meet the nameless lady. He had a repre- 
hensibly intimate knowledge of the possibilities 
of Davos as the background for a flirtation, and 
instantly concluded that ” the old place ” was 
inevitably the Schatzalp. 

Now, the Schatzalp is fundamentally a 
common, or Swiss, Alp, but the word may be 
used to express divers meanings. ” At the 
Schatzalp ” implies staying at the sanatorium. 
It is understood that going ” up ” and ” down ” 

the Schatzalp means ascending by the funicular 
88 


The Davosers 

railway and descending on a toboggan, unless 
walking is especially mentioned. But “ Meet 
me up at the Schatzalp ” means at the restaurant 
adjoining the little terminus just at the head of 
the toboggan run, and within a stone’s throw 
of the sanatorium which clings to the mountain 
side eight hundred feet above Davos. It 
suggests a rendezvous between two people 
whose acquaintance has developed into some- 
thing more sentimental than the usual frank 
cameraderie allowed at Davos. He might not 
have taken so much interest in the affair if he 
had not been at a loose end just then. That is 
to say, his heart was, for the moment, standing 
empty; for, since Miss Vansittart was expected 
out early in the New Year, and he knew that she 
would expect its total accommodation reserved 
for her, it had hardly seemed worth while secur- 
ing a temporary occupier. Also, as Rittner 
found him not quite so well this winter, he had 
to cure for three hours in the afternoon. So, 
since he was suffering from the “ lunger’s ” 
usual complaint — nothing to do and any amount 

of time to do it in — Flutter-by intended to divert 
89 


The Davosers 

himself while “ lying out ” on his balcony by 
looking out for Captain Whyte on his way to 
the Schatzalp Station. 

Soon after four, when the sun slid behind the 
Tinsenhorn and evening began, Flutter-by 
leaned over his railings and looked down on 
the road, for he reckoned that his man would 
go up by the four-thirty train. He watched the 
“ Little Bounder ” go by, saw old Ray White 
pass, and caught sight of “ Jane ” slouching 
down the Platz. Then he scanned the skating 
rinks and the curling rink, where Bim was 
dancing about with a broom, and vaguely won- 
dered why every other White but the one he 
wanted should turn up at this particular time. 
He rather plumed himself on his powers of de- 
duction, and was so piqued by finding them at 
fault that he determined to run along to the 
station and see for himself if Whyte did leave 
by the four-thirty. He arrived exactly as the 
little train was gliding out of the station, but he 
had just time to glance into each compartment. 

Captain Whyte was not there, but old Ray 
White, the “ Bounder,” and ” Jane ” were I 
95 


The Davosers 

Flutter-by whistled, thought hard, then a swift 
conjecture darted across his brain and his 
shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

“ Seen anything of Captain Whyte? he 
called out to a girl on a toboggan who had evi- 
dently just come down. 

“ Yes,” was the reply, ” I passed him walk- 
ing up the toboggan run. I should say he is 
nearly at the top by now.” 

Flutter-by began to think that it might be 
worth his while to indulge in a franc trip up the 
Schatzalp. A few minutes later he received a 
new assurance that his ticket-money would not 
be wasted, for Bertie Ray White walked in and 
swore abruptly when he found that he had 
missed the train. 

” Where’s your toboggan? ” asked Flutter- 
by artlessly. 

Bertie kicked an unoffending automatic 
machine. 

” I haven’t brought it,” he confessed in- 
genuously. ” I say — er — Flutter-by, you won’t 
breathe a word? ” 

” Not a syllable.” 


91 


The Davosers 

“ Er — you know that letter? ” 

“ Well? ” 

“ Well, I thought afterwards — fool that I am 
— that there was a girl who might have written 
it — I used to meet her up at the restaurant — so 
— er ” 

“ I see,” said Flutter-by. And he did. 

They travelled up together, and I fear that 
Flutter-by gave Bertie to understand that he 
was going to see a friend at the sanatorium. It 
was a silent journey, for Bertie was absorbed 
in his own thoughts, and Flutter-by did not 
stimulate the conversation with any men- 
tion of the three passengers by the four- 
thirty. 

Once arrived, Bertie hurried into the restau- 
rant and thence out on to the wide balcony which 
overhangs the mountain on two sides of the 
chalet, Flutter-by was hard on his heels, and 
through the window he saw four men look up 
nervously as Bertie’s footsteps sounded on the 
bare boards. He said it was quite a pity that 
the expressions on the faces of Bertie and his 

father were thrown away on three men so en- 
92 


The Davosers 

tirely preoccupied and embarrassed as their 
namesakes. I fancy they had been uneasy and 
suspicious ever since Captain Whyte had ap- 
peared on the scene, but now the full signifi- 
cance of the situation positively obtruded itself 
on their notice. 

Hence onward I have had to supply a few 
patches to Flutter-by’s somewhat disjointed 
narrative, for common decency forbade him to 
absolutely listen, but he could see everything 
and hear a good deal from his post inside the 
restaurant. 

Captain Whyte grinned nervously. ‘‘ I pre- 
sume, gentlemen, we are all under the impres- 
sion that we disowned the letter too hastily and 
on second thoughts hoped ” 

“ By Jove! ” exclaimed Bertie, “ we’re all 
on the same errand,” and he burst into a school- 
boy roar of laughter. 

” I should suggest,” remarked his father, 
with a stately glance at his exuberant offspring, 
” that some of us might retire.” 

” Which? ” asked Captain Whyte. 

No one answered his question, but each man’s 
93 


The Davosers 

face showed that, whoever else went, he meant 
to stay. 

“ Gentlemen,” said old Ray White, in his 
grand manner, ” in order to spare the lady’s 
feelings, I think we should withdraw to the 
further balcony and wait till she appears; then 
whichever one of us recognises her can go to 
meet her, while the rest go back by train.” 

Everyone agreed to this reasonable and 
delicate proposal, and they walked together 
round the corner of the house on to the other 
balcony. There they waited, till the primrose 
glow faded in the west and the clear sky 
deepened from azure to violet and white fire 
glowed through the pallid moon. The air was 
dry and exhilarating as champagne, yet cold as 
loveless kisses, and it sent a subtle chill through 
them which made them feel that they were fools 
and their errand ridiculous. 

” Suppose,” burst out Bertie, ” that it’s a 
beastly hoax? ” 

I shouldn’t wonder,” said the soldier 
shortly, and the common little man grunted his 
assent. 

94 


The Davosers 

“ Now you come to think of it,’* argued the 
doctor, “ no sane woman would have written 
such an idiotically vague letter.” 

” That’s just the sort of letter they do write,” 
objected old Ray White, who had had consider- 
able experience. ” But I agree with you, sir, 
it’s a hoax, an uncommonly clever hoax, and it’s 
the first time I’ve ever known a practical joker 
not to over-reach himself by being too smart. 
I’d give five pounds to know who did it.” 

His son, who was doing a shuffling dance, 
suddenly stopped and cried, ” I say I Where’s 
Bim? I know the letter went to him. Is he 
the only fellow that never met a lady here, or is 
he at the bottom of it? ” 

The absence of Bim struck the five as being 
most suspicious. Flutter-by had grasped that 
fact some time ago, and had suspected that quiet 
gentleman of being at least ” in the know ” of 
some practical joke. 

” Well, gentlemen,” said Captain Whyte, 
” I think we had better go quietly back and say 
nothing of our adventure. A hoax that fails 
makes the joker feel the biggest fool, I know.” 

95 


The Davosers 

“ Well, he deserves something,” said the 
“ Little Bounder.” “I’d just have liked to 
have met my little girl again.” 

” She was rippingly pretty,” murmured 
Bertie, with dreamy enthusiasm. 

”... A charming woman, grossly mis- 
understood by a lout of a husband, must interest 
any man with a spark of chivalry in him,” said 
his father warmly. Somehow he gave one the 
idea that he had made this remark to his wife 
on a former occasion and that it had not been 
well received. 

” Pretty girls are disgustingly alike,” solilo- 
quised the Captain. ” Now, a sympathetic 
woman who has lived, and thought, and 
suffered, understands a fellow.” 

” For a student,” admitted Jane, ” who has 
lived among books and — er — sober people, there 
is a piquant fascination about an actress 
which ” 

They were all speaking, more or less, at once, 
and not listening to each other in the least, as 
they strolled back to the other balcony. Then, 

when they had just turned the corner of the 
96 


The Davosers 

house again, each man stopped abruptly, stared, 
and held his breath, for a woman was coming 
hurriedly along the hard snow track, apparently 
making for the restaurant. They could see 
that she was small and slight, though her 
figure was concealed by the long sleeveless fur 
cloak she was wearing, but her face and hair 
were covered with a filmy gauze veil, so that 
even when the moonlight shone on her it was 
impossible to distinguish her features. It was 
so still that they could hear the snow squeaking 
and creaking under her feet, till she stopped 
and peered down the mountain side, with her 
hand on the handle of the door which opened 
from the path to the balcony, and gazed out at 
the far mountain tops, white as Christ’s gar- 
ments at the Transfiguration. Then, as she 
opened the glass door and passed through, 
Captain Whyte turned away, partly from deli- 
cacy, partly from disappointment, for the woman 
who had understood him had been able to look 
into his eyes with scarcely a lift of the head, 
and he was a tall man. But this woman, who 
was not She, took no heed of the others, as with 
97 G 


The Davosers 

eager faces and outstretched hands, half-doubt- 
ing, half-sure, they pressed forward to greet 
her. She went up to the soldier and, touching 
him on the arm, said with trembling gladness: 

“ So you’ve come! ” 

The other four stared with intense interest, 
but as spectators only, for none of them knew 
her voice. The officer faced round, and the 
woman pushed back her veil and gazed hungrily 
at him, while they all looked at her. For a 
moment they saw a girl’s face, rosy and 
radiantly young, with sparkling eyes and smile- 
parted lips; but, when the glow died out, 
they saw she was a frail-looking woman of 
thirty, whose willow-green eyes were weary and 
grey-shadowed, and whose thin mouth drooped 
pitifully. She looked and looked into the 
Captain’s face, as though she hoped that, if 
she looked long enough she would see what she 
sought for, then she gave a little low hurt cry, 
and hid her face in her hands. The sound 
thrilled every fibre of chivalry that was in 
Flutter-by, and he came forward to the open 

window involuntarily, as if his nearness might 

98 


The Davosers 

shield her. No one quite understood what had 
happened, but they felt that the screaming farce 
had become a tragedy. 

At last the woman looked up. 

“ Who are you? ” she demanded helplessly. 
“ Why are you here? What have you to do 
with me? ” 

Old White made his most courtly bow. 

“ Madam,” he said, we all bear the 
name of White, and the letter — your letter — 
came to each of us in turn. It was not signed, 
and we all hoped to meet here a lady — 
er ” 

But the woman cared nothing for that. 
” Are you the only Whites in Davos? ” she 
asked sharply. ” I thought — I thought there 
was another. I don’t know his name. They 
call him Bim. I think he’s at the Alexandra.” 

” He’s at the Britannique,” blurted Bertie. 

Then they all looked at the Captain and 
noticed for the first time that he was of the same 
height and build as the other man. Bim 
White was, indeed, at the bottom of it. 

” Did he get the letter? ” 

99 


The Davosers 

No one dared speak, no one dared lie, but 
there was no need^ the woman knew. She gave 
a dragging, heartbroken little laugh. 

“ You care still,” she said, ” and there is no 
one to meet you. He doesn’t care — and I am 
here. That’s life.” 

Promise,” she cried, ” promise that he 
shall never know.” 

Then, broken and shamed, she would have 
hurried away, but Flutter-by stepped out of the 
French window. 


” And what happened? ” I asked. 

” I don’t exactly know,” said Flutter-by. ” I 
think I glared at them first — brutes! Standing 
watching her 1 I could have killed them for 
being there.” 

” Well? ” 

” Oh, then I tried to make her understand 
what I felt — that we were just cakes of mud — 
and that I was sorry — oh, hang it all! you 
know.” 

” Did you say it? ” 


100 


The Davosers 

“ No. I looked at her.” 

“ And? ’’ 

“ She let me take her away — and I slammed 
the door on them and told ’em to go to the 
devil — and I comforted her. . . . The brute 1 ” 


vr 

MAN PROPOSES 

The rumble of the first gong resounded through 
the H6tel Schiahorn, and reached me faintly as 
I lay on my balcony under the shelter of the 
sun-blind, enjoying the delicious purity of the 
snow-filled air. The dry, light flakes floated 
slowly downwards, almost loath to fall — drifting 
in spirals and circles within circles : all Davos — 
town, valley, and encircling, Alps — was veiled 
in gently whirling white — and I watched it till 
the very thoughts seemed to sway and swirl in 
my brain. I had been thinking of Flutter-by 
and therefore also of Miss Vansittart, for, ac- 
cording to present happenings, it was impos- 
sible not to consider them together. 

During the last fortnight he had devoted him- 
self entirely to her, except for the hour or two 
102 


The Davosers 

a week which he spent with the woman of the 
Schatzalp adventure. But even this time had 
to be accounted for, since Miss Vansittart very 
soon wanted to know “who it was he was 
always going to see at the Sanatorium? “ 
“ It’s a woman,” said Flutter-by (here ensued 
a hostile demonstration of Miss Vansittart ’s 
eyebrows, but he went on steadily); “ she’s ill 
and — unhappy — and she likes to see me.” 

The eyebrows surrendered at discretion, for 
Miss Vansittart was intelligent enough to as- 
similate the intimation conveyed by his tone — 
that the subject was to be dropped and that the 
visits would be continued. 

In all other matters he yielded entirely to his 
infatuation, and he had practically told me he 
meant to ask her to marry him. He discussed 
his prospects gravely, founding his fortunes in 
the hope of a hypothetical appointment as agent 
to the estate of a castle in Spain. Flutter-by 
thought if^he took a pupil or two they ought to 
do very well — and if Miss Vansittart had a little 
money of her own — all the better. I marvelled 

to hear him, and I should have been rather con- 
103 


The Davosers 

cerned, had I not been very well assured that 
Miss Vansittart had not the smallest intention 
of listening to his proposals. 

The sound of the dressing-gong brought me 
back to the commonplace, and I went in to 
change for dinner. 

While I was dressing Flutter-by came into 
my room to tell me that he had borrowed my 
pearl studs; and after I had said ** All right; 
don’t lose ’em,” I expected that he would loot 
my Times and take it down to the hall to read 
till I was ready. But, instead of making off, or 
lounging across my bed as he usually did when 
he meant staying, he hung around unhappily 
while I went on with my dressing, and his pres- 
ence seemed to charge the air with an uneasi- 
ness which presently infected me, making my 
fingers fumble as I vainly strove to tie my tie. 
Somewhat exasperated, I turned round to look 
at him; then, vaguely aware that there was 
something unusual about him, stared to See 
what it was. 

Now it would seem as though a man’s indivi- 
duality must be obliterated when he is dressed 
* 104 


The Davosers 

exactly like a goodly number of his fellows, yet 
the thoughtful reader will have remarked that 
he can quite easily distinguish his friends, even 
when they are surrounded by other men in the 
same conventional evening dress. Therefore, 
starting from the indubitable fact that no two 
men will look alike although clad in the same 
clothes, he will perhaps advance towards admit- 
ting that one man may wear his dress clothes 
with a difference from the last time he put them 
on. He will then understand that by sundry 
subtle indications I was able to determine that, 
whereas Flutter-by had, the evening before, 
merely changed for dinner, to-night he was 
dressed to create an impression. Therefore 
was he arrayed in swallow-tails and a waistless 
white tie, instead of a dinner jacket and a black 
one; therefore a slim white rosebud bloomed in 
his buttonhole, while on the snowy bosom of a 
shirt-front, stiff and flat as Sheet iron, gleamed 
one of my pearl studs, lone and chaste as the 
evening star. The clean smoothness of chin 
and lips, the glossiness of his well-groomed 
dark head and the faint perfume which clung 

105 


The Davosers 

around it pleasantly betrayed the fact that he 
was newly shaven and shorn. Yet though from 
pate to pumps he was the polished pink of per- 
fection, he lacked the complacent ease of the 
man who knows he is well dressed. 

“ I say, has old Stropp put too much of his 
stuff on my hair? ” he demanded anxiously. 
“ Seems to me it positively reeks, and she hates 
strong scents.” 

” Not enough to offend Miss Vansittart’s 
sensitive nostrils,” I answered, drily, for I 
recognised the opinion and now understood 
Flutter-by’s painful anxiety to preserve the 
rigidity of his linen, since the same authority 
had declared that a bulging shirt-front was a 
sure sign of the wearer’s depravity. He 
coloured as I said her name, then blurted out 
desperately: ” Look here, I want you to do 
something for me. I’m going to try and speak 
to her to-night, and I want you to make me the 
chance.” 

” Why don’t you ask her to give you a few 
minutes alone? * Isn’t that the usual thing? ” 

Flutter-by frowned, ” She’s such a girl,” he 
io6 


The Davosers 

complained. “ Sometimes she seems tame 
enough to feed out of your hand, and then all 
of a sudden she’s as wild as a bird. If she’s 
like that to-night and gets a notion of what I’m 
going to say to her,^ she won’t let me come near 
her.” 

I was well aware that Miss Vansittart knew 
the value of the charm of elusiveness, so I 
nodded. 

” Get her into the Little Room,” he went on 
eagerly. ” Say we’re going to play bridge, 
then I’ll come in and you’ll go and look for a 
fourth, and ” 

” Stay — gone. I comprehend. Didn’t you 
know you were a diplomatist, old man? ” 

On our somewhat belated entry into the 
dining-room we found Miss Vansittart already 
seated at her little table. She nodded gaily to 
me, but the wide-open grey eyes that met mine 
as frankly as a child’s fell before Flutter-by’s 
nervously ardent gaze. She cast a quick, covert 
glance out of the tail of her eyes as he passed 
her, and I believe she then and there divined 

his intentions; for when, after dinner, I duly 

107 


The Davosers 

made the suggested proposal, the mockery 
which ever lurked in the clear depths of her eyes 
leapt into light. I thought she was going to 
wreck Flutter-by’s scheme in embryo by refus- 
ing to be entrapped into the Little Room ; how- 
ever, after a moment’s demur she came with me. 
I don’t know whether she meant to let him 
speak, but if she did, she repented herself 
directly he joined us. Perhaps she thought his 
look of elation premature, and was provoked to 
contrariness. 

“ It’s to be bridge,- isn’t it? ” she inquired, 
demurely, but with the least lift of her straight 
dark brows. 

Now this unkind anticipation of his first move 
checked Flutter-by, and before he could bring 
himself to do more than answer “ Er — yes,” 
she had ordered him to go and find a fourth 
player. 

” I’ll go,” said I. 

She shot a wicked, slanting glance at me from 
beneath her lashes, then said pensively: 

” I don’t think I’m very keen on bridge to- 
night. Are you, Mr Herries? ” 
io8 


The Davosers 

“ No,” said Flutter-by, leaning earnestly 
over the card-table that separated them. ” I 
want to say something ” 

” Then say it. We’re listening, aren’t we, 
Mr Eyre?” 

Flutter-by looked appealingly at me. I rose. 

” I think I ought to go and cure,” I said 
feebly. 

” Then I think I ought to go and sit in the 
hall,” remarked Miss Vansittart in a tone of 
painful propriety. 

I sat down, and there ensued some moments 
of strenuous silence. Conversation,” ob- 

served Miss Vansittart airily, ” flags. You 
seem to have forgotten what you were going to 
say, Mr Herries. Perhaps it will stimulate 
your memory to see me play patience. Pass 
me the cards, please. I’m going to do 
solitaire.*^ 

” Wouldn’t you like to play old maid? ” said 
Flutter-by darkly, shuffling for her. 

Her eyes gleamed with appreciation at his 
double entente^ and her lips twitched, but she 

withstood the smile that strove to part them. 

109 


The Davosers 

“ I’m not reduced to that yet,” she said, with 
a tilt of her chin. 

“ You’ll come to it,” said Flutter-by ruth- 
lessly, folding his arms in a Napoleonic attitude 
of finality. 

Miss Vansittart sighed. ” I expect I shall,” 
she said mournfully. ” If only one could skip 
the proposal! ” 

” I don’t see why you need mind that; you’ve 
only got to sit still and listen. It’s the poor 
devil that’s got to do the asking I’m sorry for.” 

Had she been attending, this might have 
proved an opening, but she was lost in her own 
thoughts, till she began, with dreamy irrele- 
vance : 

” Once upon a time there was a shirt-collar 
with a man in it, and it had been raining all 
night, so ” 

“ I hold hard! I haven’t got the hang 
of that. ‘ Once there was a man * ” 

” There was — ^at least, there wasn’t, because 
he was only nineteen. Do you know, I’ve 
never been so fond of anybody as I was of that 
ridiculous boy. I’d just left school, and I 
no 


The Davosers 

thought being in love was the necessary adjunct 
to putting one’s hair up, and having a man in 
love with me the most delightful thing in the 
world. Oh, you poor, poor little donkey! ” 

She shook her head sadly, smiling a tender, 
far-away smile at the ghost of her old self she 
had conjured up. But before Flutter-by could 
take advantage of her lapse into sentiment, she 
had ‘pulled herself together again and taken up 
the tale briskly. 

“ Well, anyway, he turned up one morning 
at half-past ten ; and I knew what he was going 
to say directly he said ‘ How d’ye do? ’ because 
he squeezed my hand and his voice had a 
throaty sort of wobble. It always makes me 
nervous when they get to that stage, and this 
was so unromantically early in the morning. 
Then, before he even began, I noticed there was 
a spot of mud on his collar. 

“ I suppose I ought not to have noticed it, 
but it fascinated me — I couldn’t see anything 
else. I think I could have stood it if it had been 
a neat little circular dot, but it wasn’t. It was 

a splashy splotch of wet yellow clay mud, with 
III 


The Davosers 

arms flinging out wildly in all directions; it 
seemed to be imploring me to tell him of its 
being there. And I couldn't^ because it wasn’t 
the sort of thing that could be wiped off f he’d 
have had to have gone home and put on an- 
other. I couldn’t listen to what he was saying 
— and, mind you, I’d longed for him to ask me 
before I’d seen it — oh, dear I — but now the only 
thing in the world I wanted was to say, 
* There’s a spot of mud on your collar.’ I 
don’t quite know why I minded it so much — it 
was only what might have been expected, con- 
sidering the state of the roads. I knew they 
were swimming in mud; it oozed and curled and 
rippled over them, but it oughtn’t to have 
splashed him — just that morning when he was 
coming to me. I’d thought he was an idyllic 
being — and — there was a spot of mud on his 
collar — of the earth, earthy.” 

She shuddered. I thought she was going to 
break down, but instead she gave a little hysteri- 
cal laugh and began again. 

” Well, he went on. I hadn’t the least idea 

what he was saying, except that he was very 
U2 


The Davosers ‘ 

dreadfully in earnest. Then he began to want 
me to answer him, and that was awful, because 
I had to remember not to say ^ There’s a spot 
of mud on your collar** 

“ It was something like this: 

“ ‘ Then I may hope, my darling? Tell me.* 
“ ‘ (There’s a spot of mud) — I mean — oh, 
yes.* 

“ ‘ You won’t forget me, Gerda? ’ 

" Oh, noj I couldn’t forget. (There’s a 

spot of m ) ’ 

“ ‘ And you’ll wait for me? * 

“ ■ Oh, yes — (if you’ll only go home and 

change your coll ) * 

“ I was nearly distracted. I’d been promis- 
ing things I didn’t mean, and then the ridicu- 
lous side of it all got hold of me and I began 
to laugh. So I buried my face in my hands and 
let him think I was crying — it was the only 
humane thing to do. He knelt down by my 
chair and put his arms round me and tried to 
draw me to him — and I was just going to lay 
my head on his shoulder and be happy, when 

I saw the horrid brown thing through my 
113 H 


The Davosers 

fingers — so near my face. Ugh I I couldn’t. 
It might have touched me. I wrenched myself 
away from him and looked at him : ‘ Go I * And 
he went — and never came back.” 

As she ended she leaned back in her chair 
with closed eyes. Flutter-by moved towards 
her, looked desperately at me, and as I left the 
room I heard her saying thoughtfully, ” I 
wonder if he ever found out that there was a 

n 


Having done my duty by Flutter-by, I 
thought I might as well put in another hour’s 
curing; so I went to my room and, putting on 
my fur coat, walked through the double French 
windows on to the balcony. It was still snow- 
ing hard, and I watched the fitful ruddy gleam 
of the lighted windows on the houses opposite, 
dreamily wondering what was going on in the 
Little Room. I hoped that she would be kind 
to him and let him down gently; yet, all the 
same, I did not wish her to accept him. I kept 
on telling myself that I was sure, sure she would 

not; then, again, I mistrusted my instinct and 
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The Davosers 

began to remember the many reasons why she, 
like any other woman, might be glad to say 
“ yes to Flutter-by. Then I heard somebody 
come into my room without knocking, and knew 
that it must be Flutter-by. Eager to hear his 
news, I pushed my way through the glass doors 
and confronted him within. He seemed hot and 
troubled; I could not quite place him, either as 
accepted lover or rejected swain. 

“ Well? ** — putting to the window after me. 

He looked as though he felt rather foofish. 
“ I — er — didn’t ask her,” he confessed. 

” Well, I’m— I Why not? ” 

” Because — why — whenever I tried to begin 
she looked so hard at my collar that I thought 
there must be something wrong with it — and 
then I funked it. Is the confounded thing all 
right? ” 

He planted both his hands on the dressing- 
table and craned over it in front of the glass, 
and twisted and turned his head and shoulders 
till, short of dislocating his neck, he had sighted 
his collar from every possible point of view. 

It was, like Bayard’s reputation, sans tache. 

115 


The Davosers 

“ What a fool I am,” and Flutter-by’s re- 
flection stared ruefully out of the glass at us 
both. 

” If it’s any consolation to you to know that 
there are two of us,” I said slowly; I had to 
have a look at mine as soon as I’d left you.” 

” Did you, by Jove! ” His face cleared. 
” And I could have sworn there was something 
on mine — I’d have laid money on it.” 

At this moment the unlatched window fell 
back, ironically disclosing the softly persistent 
fall of the snow. Every flake reiterated the re- 
minder that there was no mud in Davos — not 
even enough to make a spot on a man’s collar. 

Gerda Vansittart’s wedding was the last and 
most brilliant social event of the next London 
season, for her flfty-y ear-old bridegroom was a 
man whom the ha’penny press called ‘‘ one of 
our great pro-consuls.” Bertie, who was a 
groomsman, reported that the bride looked ab- 
solutely cock-a-hoop as she came down the aisle 
on the arm of the man who, she very well knew, 

would govern his wife as well as the fifth part 
ii6 


The Davosers 

of Greater Britain of which he was overlord. 
Flutter-by watched the ceremony from the back 
of the church, and afterwards he and Bertie 
dined together. They did themselves extremely 
well and were very enjoyably unhappy. More- 
over, they looked upon a wine that was clearly 
golden, for they toasted the bride in a vintage, 
Pomeroy, tres sec, and by the time they had 
finished the bottle Flutter-by was able to say, 
with a sigh of mingled sentiment and satis- 
faction : 

“ Well I I have loved a Vice-reine.” And as 
Bertie sagaciously remarked, “ It’s not every- 
one that can say that! ” 


VII 

It was during the following winter that Flutter- 
by first made the acquaintance of Christobel 
Way, and so, as will hereafter be related, since 
I had never seen her and was not in his 
confidence regarding her, I knew very little 
more of the matter than the mere fact of his 
devotion. Moreover, my own life was a dully 
peaceful business just then ; it was indeed but 
one of those deceitfully uneventful times which 
are so often succeeded by overwhelming stress 
of circumstances and emotion ; but for a while 
it did seem as though the great cat. Fate, tired 
of her cruel play, had let me escape from her 
talons. Consequently I had a good deal of 
time and no small inclination for the study of 
human nature, and, as the critical observation 

of our fellow-sojourners is not the least 
u8 


The Davosers 

essential phase of Davos life, I think I can 
hardly do less than give some account of it. 

There were a good many interesting people 
in the hotel just then, but I found that there 
were three individuals who were the subjects 
of the greatest public concern ; a couple who 
were hardly regarded as separate entities, but 
rather as the component parts of a flirtation; 
and a woman whose very ordinary surname 
was invariably ignored from an instinctive 
feeling of dislike for its inadequate description 
of her personality. 

She must have been born under the influence 
of Luna, for she had the very moony-loony-ist, 
misty, blue eyes that ever looked without 
seeing, set in a face pale and wan as the day- 
light moon, with stray wisps of hair floating 
round it like cloudlets. Seen from behind, 
her head had the colour and semblance of a 
badly raked haycock, into which somebody had 
accidently spilt a packet of hairpins, which 
were for ever oozing out of it. Her loose, ill- 
fitting, dead-and-alive coloured garments never 

looked as though they were fastened together, 
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The Davosers 

but rather as if they had been thrown round 
her and hung on somehow, drooping off her 
shoulders, sagging from her waist and trailing 
limply floorwards. One felt that if she had 
given herself a really good shake she would 
have shed them all. And since her soul 
seemed as ill attached to her body as her 
clothes, and likely to go floating off into, space 
with as little provocation, the hotel rose to the 
occasion and called her the Weird Ladye. 

Nothing was known of her save that she 
was reported to have come from London and 
to be suffering from nerves. Someone 
suggested that she was a more or less mad 
musician, and Nita Bryant vaguely remembered 
having seen her on some platform, but, this, 
it appeared, could not have been. She told us 
she could not play at all, though she said she 
was very much influenced by music; neither 
did she write, paint, or Sculp, having, she 
added, not time for any of those delightful 
things. But as she did not vouchsafe to say 
what was her occupation that left her so little 

leisure, we could ask no more. For though 
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The Davosers 

it is quite within the limits of good breeding 
to inquire whether a lady follows any of the 
liberal arts, a mere hotel acquaintance does not 
give the right to put the blunt question, “ Are 
you a second-hand clothes dealer, or a Barnum’s 
freak? ” 

At first people said they were sorry for her, 
poor thing, because no one would take up 
such an awful-looking creature; but whether 
people saw what was only too palpable, that 
the most pointed slight would recoil blunted 
from the shield of her abstraction, or whether 
the fascination of her dishevel induced a yearn- 
ing to find out what she was like to talk to, 
at any rate the hotel made friends with her. 
Men said she was sympathetic; certainly she 
had an odd gift of drawing out those who 
talked to her, though I have my doubts whether 
she heard a word of their confidences. She 
talked very little, and never about herself, 
except that once she said the place was doing 
her good and that she was getting back her 
control. Thinking that she meant self-control, 

we let the statement pass. Nita Bryant seemed 
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The Davosers 

about to say something, as if struck with a 
sudden idea, but she pulled herself up and fell 
to nibbling her thumb thoughtfully, as she 
covertly scanned the Weird Ladye’s face. 
Certainly it was after this episode that the 
intimacy began between them, though at the 
time we never thought of connecting the two 
things as cause and effect. 

One of the Weird Ladye’s most human 
attributes was that she played a good hand of 
bridge; she said she loved cards for their own 
sakes, for the pure joy of working out the 
game. Her views on money were so peculiarly 
original that they would be worth setting down 
here, even if it were not for their bearing on 
what came after. Most people, she said, had 
a great many wants and not enough money to 
supply them, which, we granted her freely, 
was not the happy state. Therefore, all of the 
said people who were not hopeless invertebrates 
set about trying to amend this matter — but 
only by the primitive and misguided , method 
of getting more money. Whereas, it needed 

but a supreme effort of will on their part to 
122 


The Davosers 

right things gloriously by reducing their wants 
to a minimum. It was, she said, so simple; 
and not one of us could confute her statement. 

She told us that one of the things that 
frightened her most, when she began to have 
“ these headaches,** was to find that she 
couldn*t “concentrate** enough to remember 
how many trumps had been played. But as 
her memory was evidently now in good work- 
ing order, we persuaded her to enter for the 
hotel bridge tournament — everybody to play 
against everybody and with everybody — 
assuring her that, with a fair amount of luck, 
she ought certainly to stand a good chance of 
winning. She did pretty well in her first few 
games, but by dint of skill too, for the cards 
were certainly against her. Then she was 
drawn to play with Major Thynne against 
Bertie and myself. 

Now, Major Thynne was the best and most 
scientific player in the place. Among his 
assets may be counted a game leg, an 
inadequate income, a none-too-successful career, 

and unpleasant temper. He counted being 
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The Davosers 

well groomed as woman’s primal virtue, and 
so naturally held the poor Weird Ladye in 
great aversion. Perhaps she knew this, or 
perhaps his thin, hatchet face, with the irritable 
brows contracting over the small fierce eyes, 
frightened her. At any rate, she made a 
mistake, was sneered at by her partner, and 
began to play villainously. This was no doubt 
exasperating to the man deliberately expectant 
of winning the tournament. So he lost his 
temper and loosed his tongue to question, 
hector, and criticise, till the wretched woman 
was nearly frenzied with nervousness. Bertie 
and I could do nothing but sit uneasily on our 
chairs, and feel ashamed that we were winning, 
as we listened to him. 

“ Wha’ d’you want to play that for? ” he’d 
snarl . “You lost the odd by throwing away your 
last trump! Why didn’t you return my lead? ” 

Then Bertie plucked up courage to say, 
“She drew my ace, sir.’’ 

“ And what if she did? It wasn’t the 
game,’’ he scowled irascibly. “ The correct 
play was to return my lead.’’ 

124 


The Davosers 

And so it went on until the rubber was at 
last over, and the Weird Ladye, with trembling 
lips, her strange eyes filled with piteous indig- 
nation, rose from the table and went away. 

And here ends the first part of the story, 
which may or may not have anything to do 
with the second. I leave it to you. 

The Weird Ladye kept her room for a day 
or two. Nita Bryant reported that she was 
so upset that all the old trouble of headache 
and sleeplessness had started over again. She 
had, of course, to scratch for the bridge tourna- 
ment, which was gradually being played to its 
close. Next to having the privilege of kicking 
him, it was the dearest wish of every man in 
the hotel to see the Major’s name at the bottom 
of the list. But luck favoured him and his 
science served him well ; on the last day of the 
tournament he stood fourth on the list, with 
one round still to play, the three above him 
having closed their scores. True, he had a 
hundred points to make in one rubber, but he 
had a good partner, and a weak pair against 

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The Davosers 

him, Bertie Ray White and Boy Bartram, 
holders respectively of the seventh and tenth 
places. 

Boy was a careful, clever player, but 
persistently unlucky, while Bertie was the 
abomination of the scientific player — the man 
who always holds good cards without having 
sense enough to make use of them. If Bertie 
had trusted to his luck and played blindly it 
would have been all right, but he relied on what 
he was pleased to think his skill — and to see 
him throw away a fistful of winning cards was 
worth watching, if you were not his partner. 
It was believed that Bertie was capable of 
losing the odd with thirteen trumps in his hand. 
All the same, if you knew him, he was not a 
bad partner — as dummy — for a declaration of 
no trumps on your part was almost invariably 
supported by such a gorgeous array of aces 
and picture cards in the hand he laid down that 
a good player could make up in that one round 
all that Bertie’s folly had lost over the other 
three. 

Still, of course, there was no chance of their 
126 


The Davosers 

winning — the Major regarded them merely as 
stepping-stones to higher things, that is to say, 
the top score. He said openly that he would 
have won with a game to spare if it hadn’t been 

for that d crazy scarecrow. I don’t know 

if he cared whether the Weird Ladye were 
within hearing; but though she was some little 
way off, she must have caught the remark, for 
a dull flush showed slowly through her thick 
white skin and her wandering gaze stayed 
balefully on Thynne. She seemed to bethink 
herself for a little moment, as she watched the 
four men take their places at the card-table; 
then she made her way deliberately to the front 
row of onlookers and sat down on a low couch 
opposite the corner of the table on Boy’s right 
and the Major’s left. She was able to overlook 
both their hands, if she wished, but she seemed 
to hardly glance at the cards. Clasping her 
long, thin, soulful hands and resting her chin 
on them, she kept her upturned eyes steadfastly 
on Bertie. I never saw a woman sit so still. 

And it was noticeable almost from the 

beginning of the game that Bertie was taking 
127 


The Davosers 

the thing really seriously; his face seemed to 
harden and lose some of its foolish callowness 
as he bent his brows in thought; moreover, he 
did not garnish his play with his wonted fatuous 
remarks. He was notj, perhaps, holding quite 
his usual good hands — the Major seemed to 
get most of the cards — but he was playing 
brilliantly, and winning. He frustrated the 
Major’s utmost subtleties. Sometimes he played 
by the book and sometimes he flew in the face 
of every known rule, but whatever he did it was 
always the one thing that suited his own hand 
or Boy’s and spoiled the Major’s. He seemed 
to have an unearthly intuition how the cards 
were going to fall ; his finesses always came off ; 
he made faultless declarations and doubled 
with marvellous judgment. Boy looked as 
though he didn’t know what to make of it, and 
the Major grew livid, as Grey drily remarked 
at the end of the second game that it was about 
time they began to score below the line. Bertie 
heeded nothing, and the Weird Ladye sat by 
stirlessly. It was the Major’s deal ; he declared 

“ no trumps,” and Bertie, with swift decision, 
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The Davosers 

doubled. They made “ little slam,” and at 
the end of the most amazing rubber I have ever 
seen played Bertie was declared the winner of 
the tournament the Major had marked for his 
own. Boy was, of course, second. 

But still Bertie heeded nothing; he seemed 
unable to take in the fact that he had won, and, 
in reply to congratulations, said doggedly that 
he was going to bed, whither he accordingly 
went, moving away from us with the swift, 
running gait of the sleepwalker, careless of 
obstacles, as if he believed he were the only 
corporate body in a land of shadows. 

After a few minutes Boy and Locke followed 
him up to his room, and there found him fully 
dressed, flung on the bed, with his legs trailing 
over the side, sunk in deep slumber. He hardly 
roused as we got him out of his clothes and 
tucked him between the sheets. 

“Odd? ” I said, lifting an eyebrow at Boy, 
who is a medical student. 

“ Exhaustion after extraordinary mental 
strain,” answered Boy promptly, but he did not 

seem particularly satisfied with his diagnosis, 
129 I 


The Davosers 

He felt Bertie’s pulse and listened to his 
breathing. “ He is not ill — and he’s most 
certainly not drunk — he canH be drunk. 
You’re right — it’s odd. But no odder than 
his play to-night. Wouldn’t have believed he 
had it in him.” 

Next morning, not very early, but still before 
he went down to breakfast, on the threshold of 
Bertie’s room Locke encountered Boy, who was 
leaving it. 

” I was just coming along to fetch you,” he 
said. ” Look here.” 

The older man went up to the bed, where 
Bertie lay sleeping heavily. 

” He’s asleep? ” he said, turning to Boy 
doubtfully. 

” Well, rather more than that,” said Boy 
queerly. 

Locke’s flesh crept as a horrid fear seized 
him. He laid his hand quickly on Bertie’s 
left side, and breathed again as he felt the slow 
heart-beats throbbing against his palm. 
” Why don’t )^ou wake him? ” he said roughly, 
after his fright. 


30 


The Davosers 

“ Pve been trying.” 

Then Locke’s eyes fell on the towel that lay 
on Bertie’s pillow and the sponge on the floor, 
and he saw that the shock head was dripping wet. 

” Now I’ll show you something interesting,” 
said Boy, pushing the thin flannel sleeve above 
Bertie’s elbow. Then he drew his slender 
brown hand along the inside of the forearm 
that lay limply extended on the bed, and the 
muscle rose obediently under his finger-tips 
and remained rigid. It was not at all nice to 
see. Then he took a pin out of the lapel of his 
coat and coolly jabbed it into the passive flesh. 
Locke quite understood that it was not hurting 
Bertie, but it made him feel ill. He does not 
like that sort of thing at any time, and this was 
before breakfast. 

” Beautiful case,” said Boy, looking lovingly 
at the rounded boss of muscle. 

” It’s Bertie, you young brute I ” Locke 
reminded him in wrathful indignation, and Boy 
looked a little ashamed. If it had been anyone 
else he would have been enjoying himself 
hugely. 

131 


The Davosers 

“ And — what is it? ” he demanded reluc- 
tantly. Like most practical men the thing 
he cannot understand is abhorrent to him. 

“ Well, it’s rather out of the usual course, 
but I read up mesmerism once, and I say it’s 
an artificial catalepsy produced by hypnotism 
— what you’d call a trance.” 

Locke felt as if little tickling hairy hands 
were creeping down his spine. ” What’ll 
happen ? ” 

” According to the book, they wake spon- 
taneously after a time.” 

“ How soon’s that? ” 

” Dunno. Don’t think it said.” 

” What are you going to do? ” 

” Have some breakfast; and if he isn’t awake 
when we come up ” 

” Well? ” 

” If she put him into it, she can wake him.” 

Locke knew instinctively that Boy was speak- 
ing of the Weird Ladye, though he did not 
yet see what she had to do with it, but it 
seemed oddly natural to connect her with this 

uncanny happening. And over the clean white 
132 


The Davosers 

cloth of the little table, with the fragrance of 
the coffee pleasantly tickling their nostrils, Boy 
imparted his theory to him. 

“ She kept her eyes on him the whole 
evening. Remember, she could see both my 
hand and the Major’s — and of course he knew 
what he held himself — so if she conveyed our 
cards to him by suggestion, he knew what was 
in three hands, and then even he must have 
been able to tell what Grey held. See?” 

It was impossibly simple, but — Locke took 
comfort from the reality of the cruet and held 
on to the golden brown horseshoe roll till it 
broke between his fingers — simply impossible. 

On their way upstairs they encountered the 
Weird Ladye. Her cheeks were faintly rosy, 
she was looking as innocently happy as a child 
on a fine day — and her hair was madder than 
ever. Locke took leave to make deprecatory 
mention that the comb, which seemed to be 
the keystone of the whole erection, was only 
hanging on by the skin of its teeth ; and as her 
hand wandered vaguely to her head, she smiled. 
A wide, wild smile that yet had something 

133 


The Davosers 

touchingly beautiful about it fell on the rail 
of the banisters, coasted off, and was lost in 
space. Locke thinks it was meant for him. 

As they went on their way he wondered 
unhappily how on earth they were going to 
approach her. But they were spared the 
delicate mission, for when they walked 
unceremoniously into Bertie’s room they found 
him sitting up in bed rubbing his wet hair, 
wide awake enough to render explicitly his 
opinion of bounders who burst in without 
knocking and stood staring like silly fools. 
Also, he was not pleased with his cold douche, 
and witheringly inquired whether they thought 
that sort of thing “ funny.” 

” We — we couldn’t wake you,” said Boy 
stupidly. ” We thought there must be some- 
thing wrong.” 

” But Bertie was still sulky. ” Can’t a 
fellow have his sleep out,” he grumbled. ” I 
had a grand night — never woke once. And 
next time you fellows take to smacking me 
over the knuckles, don’t hit so hard; the backs 
of my hands are tingling still.” 

134 


The Davosers 

Dumbfounded, Boy and Locke looked at each 
other. They had not touched Bertie’s hands. 
And it Was more than twenty minutes since 
they had left his room. 

“ Say, I dreamed I won the tournament,” 
went on Bertie unconcernedly. ‘‘Most awf’lly 

real it was, too. My aunt, how d well I 

did play I ” 

He paused to Consider himself admiringly. 
‘‘ Talk about intuition — you know how the 
Major gasses about knowing where every card 
is d’rectly the first trick’s on the table — well, I 
knew what everybody held before a card was 

put down. And so What the dickens are 

you two looking like that for? ” 

There was a pause, in which they both very 
clearly realised that Bertie must not be allowed 
to go downstairs until he had heard their Story. 

‘‘ Bertie,” said Boy Solemnly, ‘‘you did win 
the tournament. Don’t shout; you’ve got to 
listen.” 

He listened with scornful unbelief, and when 
Boy tried to prove that the Weird Ladye must 
have come into his room and done something 
135 


The Davosers 

to his hands to wake him, he went beet colour 
and said they ought to be ashamed of them- 
selves. He also mentioned that it was the — 
very — rottenest lie he’d ever heard, and the 
kindest thing to say was that they were both 
slightly mad. 

But when he saw his name on the notice- 
board and heard what people said about his 
play, he began to have doubts — and uncomfort- 
able ones. Nevertheless, he argued it out with 
them literally from morn till eve, without 
coming to any conclusion. 

It was after dinner when somebody asked : 
“ Where’s the Weird Ladye? ” 

“ Gone,” said Nita Bryant unexpectedly. 

” Gone!” 

” Went this afternoon,” said Nita, with the 
quiet superiority of the exclusively informed. 
” Wanted me to say good-bye to you all from 
her. And now I can tell you who she is. 
She’s Psyche.” 

“Psyche? ” 

You know; the spiritualist. I knew I’d 
seen her somewhere; it was at a seance. She 

136 


The Davosers 

can do absolutely wonderful things — not silly 
tappings in the dark. She reads the thoughts 
of anyone in the audience, and then conveys 
them to any third person you choose yourself — 
and by only just looking at them, she can send 
people off to sleep too, and they don’t wake 
till she hits them over the back of the hands. 

“ And then she got ill and couldn’t concen- 
trate — that’s willing a thing so much that people 
have to do it, you know — and she was just 
getting all right again when that hateful beast 
upset her. And she only found out last night 
that she’d got back her control, and so she 
needn’t stay here any longer. So she went. 
She was happy.” 

Bertie declares roundly that the thing we 
told him never occurred — that it was out of the 
question, impossible — in fact, that it could not 
have happened. But if it did not, why should 
conscience impel him to make over to charity 
the sum of his winnings at the bridge tourna- 
ment? And if the fifty francs which figure in the 
list of donations to the sanatorium fund as the 

137 


The Davosers 

gift of the ubiquitous Anon is not his prize- 
money, why isn’t it Convenient for him to pay 
back the ten francs Boy lent him last week? 

Thus badgered into a corner, Bertie said 
sulkily that we might call him any Sort ol a 
fool we liked, but that he did not care even to 
suspect himself of cheating at cards, though 
there was absolutely nothing — nothing, mind 
you — in it. 

Locke looks as though he wishes he Could 
think so. Myself, I think — but — well — I don’t 
know what to think. 


1 


138 


VIII 

“ To think men cannot take you, Sweet, 

And enfold you. 

Ay, and hold you. 

And so keep you what they make you. Sweet I ” 
— A Pretty Woman. 

There was nothing mysterious about the flirta- 
tion between George Gascoigne and Jessie 
Pickering. It was carried on very quietly and 
with the utmost good taste, and this in itself was 
a noteworthy fact, for even the Smoking-room 
would hardly have quashed the salon verdict 
that the girl Was “ a second-rate little thing.’* 
But in this case she had adapted herself to 
George Gascoigne’s standard, and perhaps it 
was this lack of any public show of affection — 
the demonstrative freedom of look, touch and 
speech — that we had all seen her permit in 
former amorous diversions; which made us sus- 
pect that, in private, this particular affair had 

139 


The Davosers 

reached a pitch of dangerous intensity. Indeed 
it was fairly apparent that little Miss Pickering 
had lost her heart; the question was, would Gas- 
coigne keep his head? It seemed likely, for he 
was evidently a self-centred, cold-blooded man : 
reserved rather than unsociable, for he had no 
taste for solitude, but took his pleasure in the 
company of his fellow-men although he only sat 
silent in their midst. In the meantime, what- 
ever his regard for Jessie Pickering may have 
been, he was sufficiently enamoured of the 
sweetly innocent eyes and little flower face to 
keep her entirely to himself; for, as Nita ex- 
pressively put it, “ he had chalked a ring round 
her,” which none of her other admirers cared to 
overstep. Gradually our fickle interest in them 
waned, and then our whole attention was ab- 
sorbed by a find of Mrs Stephenson’s, which 
Harold Johnson discovered to be a bit of evi- 
dence that proved a scandal. She was a thin, 
sharp, sallow woman whose husband had been 
last heard of two years ago at Delagoa Bay, 
and he was a lazy, satirical fellow, whose wit 

would have been more amusing if it had been 
140 


The Davosers 

less malicious. Hapless, indeed, was the fate 
of any reputation which fell into their power, 
and that of the unfortunate owner of the lost 
property was tarred and feathered and ridden 
on a rail from Dorf to Clavadel before the day 
was out. 

The story was one which gave great oppor- 
tunities to a bon raconteur^ but Harold John- 
son’s recital was generally spoilt by the fact that 
most of his audience had already had the gist 
of the matter from Mrs Stephenson ; therefore 
it would be idle to deny that he was well pleased 
to find that George Gascoigne, whom he en- 
countered in the hotel reading-room on his re- 
turn from a ski expedition to the Fiirka Pass, 
had not yet heard it. The party had set off in 
the early morning of the day before, had passed 
the night at the hut on the mountain, and not 
arrived at Davos Platz until nearly six o’clock 
on the present day. Gascoigne, having an 
appointment in the reading-room at half-past, 
changed straight into his evening clothes and 
made his way there. He was before his time, 

so he listened complacently enough to Johnson’s 
141 


The Davosers 

account of the happenings of the two days he 
had been away from the hotel. 

“ You see, as Mrs Stephenson was coming 
down to lunch, yesterday j she picked up a ring 
on the first-floor landing. She passed it all 
round the crowd who were standing about in 
the hall, waiting for someone to make the first 
move into the dining-room. It was a lady’s 
ring, and a handsome one too, five good-sized 
diamonds with a little coloured stone between 
each of ’em. Well, everybody crowded round 
to have a look, of course; when suddenly Mrs 
Stephenson exclaims, ‘ There’s something en- 
graved on the inside,’ and then reads out, ‘ My 
promised wife ’ I ” 

‘‘ By Jove! ” 

Gratified by the involuntary exclamation, 
Johnson went on to describe the consternation 
that ensued when no owner could be found for 
the ring. The married women said it was not 
theirs, and the girls denied all knowledge of it. 
Yet it seemed inevitable that one of them must 
be “ My promised wife,” and if so, she would 

And herself in very awkward straits if she did 
14a 


The Davosers 

not sooner or later claim her ring, though if she 
did so now, she would have to admit to the lie 
direct as well as to the deceit of having passed 
herself off as unattached. 

But why did she want to do it at all? ** 
demanded Gascoigne languidly. 

“ Why — my dear fellow, it’s plainly your 
first winter out here. You bet no girl’s going 
to waste her time sighing over a fiance in 
England at a place like Davos in the season, 
when presentable young men are as common as 
peaches in South Africa, where they feed the 
pigs with ’em. Not she. No. She slips her 
ring in her pocket and has a real good time. 
It’s a regular winter sport.” 

Gascoigne smiled, but remonstrated lazily. 
‘‘Oh, give the girls a chance. We’re bad to 
beat.” 

‘‘ May be; — still — place aux dameSy' and 
the shrug with which Johnson emphasised his 
witty sneer was as perfectly Parisian as his 
accent. 

‘‘ Oh, go on, you old cynic,” said Gascoigne, 
stretching himself comfortably in his armchair. 

143 


The Davosers 

“ I’ve heard all that before. ... I say, did 
you say there were coloured stones in that 
ring? ” 

“ Yes.” 

” All alike? ” 

” No, all different. There’s a sapphire, and 
an emerald in the middle, a queer thing some- 
one said was a sardonyx at one end, and a green 
stone at the other. No one seems to know what 
it is.” 

Johnson was somewhat surprised to see how 
Gascoigne, who had listened very passively to 
the more striking parts of his story, roused him- 
self to make inquiries as to this paltry green 
stone which, he answered tersely, was not 
another emerald — nor yet a chrysoprase, nor an 
olivine. 

” H’m,” Gascoigne lapsed into a brown 
study. There must be other green stones. 
Aren’t beryls green? ” 

” I don’t know. What are you driving 
at? ” 

“ This. If you find out what the green stone 

is, you’ll get the owner’s name.” 

144 


The Davosers 

“What d’you mean?” demanded John- 
son. 

“ Why, it’s a jeweller’s dodge. The initial 
letters of those stones will spell the girl’s name. 
A diamond stands for D, an opal for O, and so 
on. See? ” 

“ By Gad, that’s quite a notion I ” exclaimed 
Johnson. 

“ I’ll get Mrs Stephenson to let me take it up 
to a jeweller’s after dinner, and get him to tell 
me what the green thing is. By Jove, though I 
— No. One can’t give the wretched girl away. 
Why, it might be someone you liked I ” 

“ Quite possible,” said Gascoigne drily; then 
in an indifferent voice, but fixing the other with 
an intent eye, he said: 

“ I suppose Miss Pickering said that the ring 
was not hers? ” 

“ She did. ... I say, do you mean anything 
serious there? ” 

Gascoigne lifted his eyebrows. “ Does a 
man ever mean anything serious — at Davos? ” 

“ Well, hardly. His vows expire with his 
return ticket. But all the same, as you’ve no 

145 K 


The Davosers 

‘ intentions,’ I’d advise you to cry off a bit; I 
think that girl means business and — well, she’s 
not our class, you know.” 

” Do you mean to insinuate that Miss 
Pickering is not a lady? ” said Gascoigne, with 
an unpleasantly cold expression on his thin, 
keen face. 

” Oh, that’s a very inclusive term. But would 

you say she was a gentlewoman Well, 

beware, my son ; la belle Jessie has a determined 
little chin which emphatically contradicts the 
meaning of that soft baby mouth of hers; and 
it’s just those gentle, clinging women that stick 
like limpets.” 

As Johnson ended his unchivalrous warning, 
the door was pushed farther open and Jessie 
Pickering came into the room. She evidently 
expected to see Gascoigne, for she smiled 
engagingly at him, but coloured when her blue 
eyes lighted on Johnson, who, attributing the 
hot flush rather to annoyance than maiden 
modesty, hardly troubled to hide the satirical 
twist of his lips as he made his way to the door. 
But as he glanced back at the girlish figure 
146 


The Davosers 

and saw the exquisite face looking up at Gas- 
coigne with “ that infantine, fresh air of hers 
which was a delight in itself: “ What a lovely 
little kitten it isl he thought as he left the 
room. 

“ So you’re back,” said she to Gascoigne with 
a shy, adorable lifting and falling of her lashes, 
as he took both her hands^ and said, as he 
glanced down at the cluster of creamy Souvenir 
d^un Ami roses whose tawny pink hearts glowed 
on the bosom of her white frock — ” I see you’ve 
got my flowers? ” 

Yes, thank you,” said Jessie, prettily, as 
she sat down in the corner of the Chesterfield. 

” Aren’t they lovely? ” and as Gascoigne 
sat down beside her, she preened her dainty 
head and leant towards him, while he laid his 
arm along the back of the couch and bent over 
her, pretending to smell the roses, but steal- 
ing the opportunity to gaze into the sweet 
face. 

” You’re looking rather sadly, little girl. 
Shadows under your eyes. What’s been the 
matter? ” he demanded tenderly. 

147 


The Davosers 

“ Oh, I’ve missed you, and — I’ve been 
bothered.” 

” What about? ” 

Jessie said hastily: ” Oh, nothing.” Then 
hoping to turn the subject, asked coyly : 
” Don’t you want a buttonhole? ” 

” Yes, if you give it to me,” and he kissed 
her hand lightly as she put in the flower. 
” Now, I wonder? ” he thought to himself, 
then said aloud with affected carelessness, but 
watching her very closely, ” Johnson’s just 
been telling me about the ring. Queer busi- 
ness — what? ” 

Jessie looked at him out of the corners of her 
eyes. ” Very.” 

” I wonder whose it is? ” 

” I wonder,” she said dully, turning round 
to arrange her cushions. 

‘‘ Well, they’ll soon find out now.” 

Jessie gave a nervous start. ” How? ” she 
demanded. 

” By the little coloured stones.” 

A low, dismayed “Oh!” escaped from 

Jessie, but he went on unheeding — ” You see 
148 


The Davosers 

the initial letters of the stones spell the girl’s 
name. I twigged that at once when I heard 
the stones were all different.” 

He got up and paced the room meditatively 
with his hands in his pockets. ” A sapphire 
and an emerald in the middle — a stone they 
don’t know the name of at one end and some- 
thing supposed to be a sardonyx at the other — 
S.S.E. — S.E.S. — E.S.S. — ess. That sounds 
the most likely combination, and if the first 
stone is a beryl, why — it’s Bess. Got it, I be- 
lieve! We’ll take it round to the jeweller’s 
after dinner. Hullo! ” he exclaimed, as hear- 
ing a smothered sob he turned round to find 
Jessie huddled coweringly among the cushions. 

” Oh, George, don’t, don’t,” she wailed. 
” Help me, please, please! ” 

“ Now, look here, tell me what’s the matter,” 
said Gascoigne rather sternly. 

“ They mustn’t find out,” she cried wildly. 
” I should die of shame.” 

“ Do you mean to say the ring is yours? ” 
Jessie breathed a shamefaced “ Yes.” 

“ Then you’re engaged to someone? ” 

149 


The Davosers 


She bowed her head. 

“ And you took off your ring, so that you 
might be able to flirt as much as you pleased 
with me — and the rest? ” 

“ Don’t,” said Jessie piteously, as she hid 
her face again. 

” Did it never strike you that it was hardly 
acting on the square? ” drawled Gascoigne, 
politely. 

Jessie lifted her innocent face to say plain- 
tively, ” It didn’t seem wrong, till it was found 
out and I heard what people said about it. . . . 

I suppose it ‘was rather horrid to deceive poor 
Tom,” she admitted wistfully. 

” I’m, afraid I’m not an altruist,” said 
George grimly. ” I was thinking of myself. 
You see you distinctly led me to believe you — 
liked me.” 

He did not assuage his wrath by remember- * 
ing that he himself had played the same deceit 
on her. No one resents double-dealing more 
than your cheat himself, and a man does not 
like a girl to beat him at his own game. It is 
unwomanly. 

150 


The Davosers 

As Jessie did not seem inclined to break the 
silence, he presently inquired: “ By-the-bye, 
what is the other stone?” 

“ Jade.” 

‘‘Jade — eh? ” He dragged the word out so 
meaningly that she winced. ‘‘ J.E.S.S. of 
course. ... I suppose you promised ‘ Poor 
Tom * that he should be the only man allowed 
to kiss you. It’s the regulation thing in such 
cases I believe. Does your memory carry you 
back as far as last Tuesday evening, I wonder? ” 
sardonically. 

‘‘ No,” said Jessie, with resentful tears in her 
voice. 

And he answered relentlessly — ‘‘ I thought 
it wouldn’t.” 

‘‘You are cruel!” and bursting into tears 
she sobbed — ‘‘ I thought — you’d — help me.” 

Her distress was so pitiful that George’s heart 
melted, and putting his arm round her he spoke 
soothingly. ‘‘ Oh, you sweet little sinner, don’t 
cry. It isn’t any good scolding you, it’s not 
your fault that you happen to be born without 
a sense of honour — only our misfortune. 

151 


The Davosers 

You’re just a bundle of feminine wiles, and I’m 
a mere calculating brain — we haven’t a heart or 
a soul between us. Now, dry your eyes, and 
tell me what made you think I’d help you? 

Jessie obeyed. “ Because you’re not so 
horridly good yourself,” she said confidently. 

George drew back in vexed surprise. 
” How do you know that? ” 

” Why, you were one of the judges when I 
was tried for the English Rink. You know 
the last time I had to do the three on one foot, 
I put the other down before I’d finished. Mr 
Skinner didn’t see, but you did — and you 
passed me. So you see you’re not good.” 

” Evidently not,” said Gascoigne drily. 

Jessie looked pensive. “ Tom wouldn’t have 
done it. He doesn’t think it matters whether a 
girl’s pretty or not in things about right and 
wrong,” and her eyes were big with naive 
wonder. 

” Benighted Tom! H’m! I wonder if he 
would see the humour of the situation? Mean- 
while, perhaps it may interest you to know that 
I did not see you put your other foot down. . . 
152 


The Davosers 

So you thought that if I’d sell the Skating Club 
for a kiss, you’d sell me and Tom. Two by 
tricks to you. Honours do not count.” Jessie 
whimpered. “ Now, don’t begin again. It’s 
really extremely funny, if you look at it from the 
right angle, and anyway I’m going to get the 
ring back for you.” 

“What! without giving me away?” she 
cried eagerly. 

George nodded. ” Only mind you, I never 
take a hand in a game where there are no stakes, 
so before I give it you, I shall make my own 
terms.” 

Jessie looked at him with sly seductiveness. 
” The old terms? ” she whispered. 

” That will be included, but there will be 
more besides,” he said, as opening the door he 
looked out into the hall. 

” What do you mean by ‘ more besides ’? ” 
Jessie caught her breath. George, you don’t 
mean — you can’t mean — remember I’m — 
en ” 

Gascoigne stopped her with a look. ” Mrs 
Stephenson’s out there,” he said hurriedly, 

153 


The Davosers 

“ and I am going to tackle her now. But you 
mustn’t be there or your face will give the show 
away — and I mustn’t be seen with you. Stop 
in here and don’t make a sound.” 

It seemed an eternity and a half to the wait- 
ing Jessie before Gascoigne came back, but then 
she breathed a joyous ” Oh ” for he held up to 
her the ring for her to see. 

” Oh, are you sure she didn’t guess it was 
mine? ” she cried eagerly; ” and however did 
you make her give it up? ” 

” I told her it belonged to me.” 

” To you? ” 

” Yes. She wouldn’t believe me at first, 
because she said it was a lady’s ring ; so I asked 
her if she wasn’t aware that under certain heart- 
rending circumstances a lady returns her ring 
to the original donor. I said that I wasn’t very 
proud of having been jilted, but in justice to 
the girls of the hotel, I thought I ought to come 
forward, and that she was to make it known 
that the ring had been claimed by a man. But 
that if my name transpired — well, I hinted that 
people were beginning to wonder a little at her 

154 


The Davosers 

extraordinary luck and skill at bridge, and that 
at a mere whisper from me, I thought she 
would find it difficult to make up a ‘ four.’ ” 

“ George, you’re simply splendid! How 
you must have frightened the hateful old thing I 
Thank you a million times,” and holding out 
her hand for the ring she said winningly, 
” Please.” 

Gascoigne put his hand behind his back. 
” Wait a bit,” he said. ” What do you pro- 
pose to do with it? ” 

” Lock it up,” said Jessie with prompt 
decision. 

” Really! ” drily. ” Now my suggestion is 
that you write and confess to Tom.” 

Jessie made a piteous face. “Tell Tom! 
Oh, I don’t want to! Besides it would hurt 
him ever so much. He needn’t know, it isn’t 
necessary,” she coaxed appealingly. 

Gascoigne made the stones flash tantaliz- 
ingly. “It is to get the ring,” he answered 
grimly, and Jessie saw that he meant it. 

“ Very well, then,” she said, as with a reluc- 
tant pout she sat down on the chair he had 

155 


The Davosers 

placed at the writing-table for her and dated her 
paper. 

“ Dear Tom,” dictated Gascoigne. 

” Dear old Tom,” suggested she reprov- 
ingly. 

” Certainly, if you prefer it. ‘ I have to tell 
you something — that I am afraid will hurt you 
very much.* ” 

” Yes.” 

” ‘ I wanted to have a good time here, so I 
took off your ring and told no one I was 
engaged.* ** 

Jessie turned round. “Oh, I simply can*t 
write that,’* she said, appalled. ” It looks . 
so awful.” 

” Isn’t it true? ” demanded he. 

” Ye-e-es, but ” she hesitated and sighed 

heavily. ” Let me put it nicely.” 

“You mean let you adulterate the truth till it 
is unrecognisable. No. Please continue. * I 
have behaved very badly, but I’m dreadfully 
sorry. I shall put on my ring and wear it 
always and let everybody know about our 
engagement.* ** 

156 


The Davosers 

White and terrified Jessie turned to him in 
utter consternation. 

“George I You know I can’t do thati 
Why, you stupidy stupid, everybody would 
recognise the ring — and, oh, oh, oh.^^ Hot 
tears rose in her eyes : it was too cruel ; just as 
she had thought everything was going so 
beautifully and after getting back the ring and 
all. 

Gascoigne took her hand and patted it. 
“ Look here, I was only bluffing to show you 
that it’s an impossible situation,’’ he said 
gently. 

“ I know that,’’ said she miserably. 

“ Well, put an end to it. Send the ring back 
to Tom.’’ 

Jessie started. “ What! break off the en- 
gagement? ’’ 

“ It’s the only alternative.’’ 

“ It’s nice to be engaged — in England,’’ 
regretfully. 

“ But you don’t really care for him.’’ 

“ I think I do,” said Jessie weakly. 
“ Mother says he has sterling qualities.” 

^57 


The Davosers 

Gascoigne lost patience, and with it dis- 
cretion. 

“ Now, look here; supposing you had to 
choose between him — and — well, me. Which 
would it be? 

A swift, lovely colour flooded Jessie’s cheeks; 
she gave him one eloquent, upward look. 
“ Oh I ” then dropped her eyes. 

The absolute surrender was sweet to his 
vanity; perhaps it even touched his better 
nature, for he said very gently, “I thought so. 
. . . Then there is only one thing to do, is 
there? Finish your letter. Where have you 
got to? ‘ Dreadfully sorry ’ — oh, very well. 
‘ I’ve found out that I don’t love you as I once 
thought I did, and therefore send you back your 
ring. I am very, very sorry. I don’t ask you 
to forgive me, but I do hope you will try and 
forget. 

‘ Yours penitently, 

‘ Jessie Pickering.’ 

Put the ring in this little matchbox and slip 
it into the envelope. I’ll tell Hans to register 
it. The post won’t have gone yet.” 

158 


The Davosers 

She obeyed him passively, for her heart was 
beating wildly with joyful wonder. He had 
said, “ Choose between me and Tom.’* That 
must mean he wanted to marry her. It was too 
good to be true, she thought, as he left the 
room — especially since she’d been so wicked. 
In a book something would have happened to 
punish her. Then her mind misgave her. 
Did he mean that? Her little face hardened 
and she clenched her teeth. “ He shall.” 

Then he came in again and sat down beside 
her, saying: ” Well, aren’t you glad now? ” 

” Oh, so glad,” said she enthusiastically. 

Gascoigne was surprised. ” Why this 
change of tune? ” he wondered. 

Jessie laid her hand on his arm, and whisper- 
ing, ” George, it wouldn’t be wrong — now 
” put up her face to his. 

” Wouldn’t it? ” said he, rather perplexed. 

” No. I mustn’t kiss anyone except you 

now, but ” she smiled up to him. ” I 

don’t mind.” 

” Good Lord I ” thought Gascoigne. 
” Does she think I meant that? This will be 

159 


The Davosers 

rather awkward to explain.” Then he said 
slowly: “ So you thought I made you break off 
your engagement because I wanted you my- 
self?” 

“ Yes,” said Jessie confidently. “ Else why 
did you? ” 

He got up hastily, then came back, and lean- 
ing over the back of the couch, took her in his 
arms. ” Dear little girl, listen to me a 
moment,” and as he spoke his voice thrilled 
with very real feeling. ” Say that you’ve 
guessed quite right — that I’m not the soul of 
honour as your Tom was. Couldn’t you believe 
that I had, for one moment, a decent impulse, 
and that because I liked you, I wished you were 
as good as you were sweet — that I wanted you 
to do the straight thing just because it was the 
straight thing? ” 

Jessie hesitated. ” No. What would you get 
by it? ” she asked unbelievingly. “ You said, 
‘ I never take a hand in a game where there are 
no stakes.’ ” Then as he laughed sardonically, 
she asked: ” What is the matter? ” 

” Oh, nothing — only for a moment I thought 
i6o 


The Davosers 

I was a better man than I am. You showed me 
my real self. Thanks. . . . Look here, there’s 
something I must tell you.” 

” Oh, don’t,” said she plaintively. ” I know 
it’s something tiresome.” 

“•Well, yes; I should say it was, from your 
point of view. Still you’d better hear it. Will 
you kiss me forgiveness before I tell you? ” 

She laughed at the mere asking of it, letting 
her lips answer his, as she clung to him with 
the ecstasy of sensuous emotion, which was all 
she knew of love. Then as her head fell back 
and rested on his shoulder, he looked down at 
her with a yearning that tugged painfully at his 
heartstrings. 

What a nature — soulless, worthless — but then 
— what a face I A passion of pity and renunci- 
ation swept over him as he put her away, and 
with her the temptation to do anything worse 
than tell her the truth. 

He braced himself for cruelty. Did it 
never occur to you that you might not have the 
monopoly of your very delightful idea? 

What do you mean? ” asked Jessie be- 
i6i L 


The Davosers 

wildered. His tone jarred; for he had caught 
her up to the seventh heaven and she was still 
pulsing with the rapture of it. 

“ Why, that perhaps a man might want to 
have a good time in the same way. Suppose 
he came to a new place and found a certain fact 
taken for granted. At first he was rather 
amused; then he found it convenient — and so 
let it be.” 

Jessie caught a hint of his meaning, with 
quick alarm. 

“ Do you mean that you are engaged, too? 
Oh, George 1 Are you engaged? ” 

” No. . . .” 

She breathed a joyous “ Ah! ” 

“I’m married.” 

Her dumb lips tried to echo the word as her 
brain tried to grasp its import! With a little 
heartbroken cry, she fell face downwards on the 
cushions, as he, with one helpless glance be- 
hind him, went out of the room. Then spring- 
ing up from the couch, her furious little hands 
sought the roses at her bosom, tearing the laces 

of her bodice, as she dragged them from their 
162 


The Davosers 

fastenings. Her ruthless grasp had crushed 
thorns, stems, leaves and blossoms to shapeless 
destruction, before she flung them at the door 
which closed after him. 

Jessie could not leave Davos until her friends 
were ready to go, and Gascoigne meant to stay 
on until after she left, for he knew that it was 
only the fear of him that kept Mrs Stephenson’s 
tongue in rest. His first motive was to shield 
Jessie for her own sake, but I think he also 
feared that if the girl’s secret were betrayed, she 
would confound her accusers by declaring his. 
So for a little more than a week he had to see 
her going about the hotel with a misery in her 
eyes which blazed into piteous anger whenever 
they encountered his — reproaching him for not 
relieving her torture of his presence. 

After they had both departed, Mrs Stephen- 
son cautiously revealed her knowledge ; 
naturally her first confidant was Harold John- 
son, and, as George’s shrewd mind had 
foreseen, when these two compared stories, they 
could hardly miss the real identity of the owner 
of the ring. 


The Davosers 

Harold Johnson told the tale in St Moritz 
when he went over with the bandy team. It 
was listened to, with great interest, by a man 
who afterwards announced that he had been 
present at Gascoigne’s wedding. So Johnson 
was able to take the superclimax back with him, 
and another authentic tradition was added to 
Davos history, which, as such, finds a place in 
these chronicles. 


164 


IX 

“ All things made he — Shiva the Preserver. 
Mahadeo ! Mahadeo ! he made all — 

Thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine 
And Mother’s heart for sleepy head, 

Oh, little son of mine 1 ” 

— Shiva and the Grasshopper. 

On the Sunday afternoon of the World’s Skat- 
ing Championship I was outside the hotel wait- 
ing for Flutter-by, who had run in again to 
fetch his camera. It was a “ yellow ” day and 
the lone sun shone brazenly in a sky of tran- 
scendent Reckitt’s blue. Its intense glare re- 
duced everything to black and white — snow, 
inky shadows, and rusty sable pines; the moun- 
tains looked no more than badly iced wedding- 
cakes; and there was nowhere any warmth of 
colour or softness of atmosphere — the whole 
landscape was as hard, crude, and sharply out- 
lined as an over-exposed photograph. 

165 


The Davosers 

A woman was loitering on the other side of 
the road, evidently waiting for Someone, as I 
was. She was not young, but she carried off 
her round wool cap, jaunty white knitted jersey, 
and short skirt with an artistically girlish air. 
I idly noted the beauty of her long sable stole, 
and that she wore it as lightly as if it had been 
a wisp of gauze; then I looked at her again, for 
it takes a woman of rare quality to wear furs 
without being either overwhelmed or vulgarised. 
Her profile was faultless, her thin mouth deli- 
cately picked out in carmine, her chestnut hair 
deceitfully natural, and her face enamelled, pen- 
cilled, and powdered with exquisite discretion. 
It was only against the defiant purity of the 
snow that she was shown up as a clever fake. 

Two Bella Vista men passed — Captain Whyte 
and a younger man. 

“ That’s Lady Ventnor,” said Whyte to his 
companion. 

“ The Lady Ventnor? ” 

** The Lady Ventnor — yes. She’s over with 
a whole crew from St Moritz for the skating,” 
and they gazed curiously at her. I will not speak 

i66 


The Davosers 

of what I felt when I heard her name thus 
shamefully spoken, lest she be made to requite 
me that moment with aeons of torment. And I 
had not known her! She was changed since 
the long ago when last I saw her. 

“ What sort of a man is Lord iVentnor? ” 
asked the other man. 

“ A fool, and young enough to be her son. 
Her first husband divorced her. He forgave 
her several times first, for their boy’s sake, they 
say.” 

“ Poor little beggar! ” 

” What can you expect but cruelty from a 
woman with a jaw like that? They call her 
‘ La Belle Dame Sans Merci’.” 

They passed on, and before I could drag my- 
self away she had strolled towards me. She 
looked at me carelessly and knew me. 

“ Reggie! ” 

I don’t know why or how, but we were in the 
hotel drawing-room and I had shut the door. I 
think she had said imperiously ” I must speak 

to you,” but now wo both felt that we could say 
167 


The Davosers 

nothing that was not futile and inadequate. It 
was all so hopeless. 

“ Are you here for your lungs? ” she said at 
last, in a moved voice. 

“ Yes.*’ 

Her face Worked a little, but her changeless 
eyes were no softer than sapphires set in marble. 

“ You’re not — very ill? ” 

“ No.” 

I would not have said so, if I had been dying. 

” That’s right.” Her relieved voice grew 
flippant. ” I suppose I’m undergoing emotions. 
What are you feeling? ” 

” I am sorry that we have met — like this. I 
had better memories — you were kind to me 
sometimes.” 

I think that touched her. ” Have you for- 
given me? ” she said slowly. 

” I had almost forgotten you.” 

She winced. 

” And I — I — well, I haven’t been sorry for 
anything else,” she said with hard recklessness. 
She gazed at me, seeming to approve my tall 
figure and straight-featured face. 

i68 


The Davosers 

“ Your hair’s got darker,” she observed. 
Then pulling a coppery strand over her forehead 
she gazed at it ruefully. Mine was black 
once.” 

” I remember.” 

There was an uneasy silence* 

” Won’t you come back to me? ” she Said 
with an effort, yet I saw that she meant it. 
” Why shouldn’t you? ” 

” Won’t you come back to me? ” 

She considered. 

” No — I can’t. There’s Ventnor, you 
know,” she reminded me. ” After all, he is 
my husband.” 

There was no more to be said, but she began 
again : 

‘‘You don’t reproach me? ” 

‘‘ I can never do that. Noblesse oblige.** 

She looked up at me with a touch of shame. 
‘‘ I didn’t teach you that, but — I’m glad you 
hold by it in spite of — me.” 

I bowed; the interview Seemed to be over. 

Perhaps she felt that something more was ex- 
pected of her, for she laid her hands on my 
169 


The Davosers 

shoulders, and, as I bent my head obediently, 
she kissed my forehead. I shuddered as I 
waited for her tinted lips to touch me, but as I 
felt their soft impress, something in me broke — 
I wanted her to show me all I had missed, to 
give me back all I had lost, to plead the name 
that was still mine to call her. But before I 
could speak it, she read it in my face, and put- 
ting her hands over her ears, shrieked “ No! 
no! Not that.** 

Then Flutter-by Came into the room and 
stared. 

Lady Ventnor recovered herself quickly, and 
bowing, passed him and went out. Through 
the window I saw her gaily join a well-dressed, 
noisy party going down to the rink. Then he 
and I left the hotel together and went the other 
way — towards Dorf, and on to the Fluela road. 
After a little while Flutter-by said tentatively: 

“ That was Lady Ventnor, wasn*t it? ** 
Yes.** 

“You never told me you knew her, Rex.** 

“ No.** 

“ I suppose — you cared about her? ** 

170 


The Davosers 

** Somewhat.” 

Long ago? ” 

” Yes.” 

Flutter-by laughed bitterly. ” She must 
have cured you of that by now.” 

” Don’t I — for God’s sake — don’t I ” 

He looked at me with wonder in his eyes. 

” Does it hurt — like that — still? ” 

” Yes.” 

He said no more, seeing there was something 
he did not understand, and we walked on 
silently along the road over the lake, where the 
tawny, dead reeds wave forlornly above the 
snow. I knew he was waiting for me to speak 
and that he knew I was trying to tell him, but 
it was as hard to raise the old wrong from its 
grave in the frozen depths of my heart as for the 
waters under us to break through the mass of 
black ice and deep snow which covered them. 

At length I brought myself to say hoarsely: 

” Did you never hear the name of her first 
husband? ” 

” I don’t think so.” 

” It was — Eyre.” 


171 


The Davosers 

"What! You?” 

“No; my father.” 

He turned a blank, awed face to me. He 
could neither stay nor frame the question 

“ Then she’s ? 

“ My mother — yes.” 


172 


BOOK II 


Love 
















I 


PORTRAIT OF A LADY 

“ The good stars met in your horoscope 
Made you of spirit, fire and dew.” 

— Browning. 

There are some people who are as notable for 
what they are as others are for what they do — 
men and women whose mere being is of more 
influence than the words and deeds of their 
fellows. Such a one was Christobel Way. 

I had thought that these papers would only, 
in some sort, show forth the history of Flutter- 
by’s grande passiony but as I look back into the 
past, and begin to set down all that took place 
both before her death and after, I see how large 
a part she bore in all concerning us, how in- 
tensely we all lived in the little span of her life, 
and what great things her spirit wrought in our 
subconscious selves. And in seeing, I learn to 
know how we, too, loved her. 

175 


The Davosers 

She was so ill when she first came to Davos 
that for nearly a year she lived entirely in her 
rooms and on her balcony. No one ever saw 
her, but amazing rumours were spread abroad 
concerning the beauty of this young Australian 
girl. She was in the charge of one Mrs Wil- 
kins — a frank-tongued, vigorous Colonial, grey- 
haired and kind-eyed — who was aunt by 
vocation to all the lonely world, as well as by 
kinship to Christobelj a maker of poultices, a 
brewer of warm drinks, and a bringer of 
creature comforts to all who had need of her 
helpful offices. It was she who one day showed 
Flutter-by a picture of her niece, from which 
moment he gave her no peace until she prom- 
ised him that he should see her. And so, it 
being notorious that ladies of a certain age can 
never resist Flutter-by, the day came when, 
having solemnly vowed that on no account 
would he be “ exciting,” he was permitted to 
sit beside Christobel for a few minutes on the 
balcony, and look at her while he talked to Mrs 
Wilkins. 

And afterwards, since that first occasion did 
176 


The Davosers 

not seem to have tired Christobel, he was occa- 
sionally allowed to visit his silent lovely lady, 
and he wrote to her most faithfully all the sum- 
mer, though she could never send him even a 
line in return. Then in the autumn she made 
a wonderful rally, and when I came out in 
November she was the first person I saw as I 
crossed the hall. She had just reached the 
lowest steps of the staircase, and though she 
bore no candle in her hand, she seemed to me 
so like the Beatrix who came to meet Esmond 
that I looked down to see if she had put on the 
scarlet stockings with the silver clocks in my 
honour, but before I could raise my eyes to her 
face again she had swiftly passed me. As I 
gazed after her long-limbed, slender figure I 
caught only a glimpse of the loveliest line in a 
perfect mask — the pure curve that sweeps from 
the lobe of the ear to the chin’s oval — as she 
half-turned her head. 

That same evening I was presented by Mrs 
Wilkins and graciously welcomed as Flutter- 
by’s friend and the bearer of his messages, and 

I gladly joined the little court over which 
177 M 


The Davosers 

she ruled as queen by the divine right of 
beauty. 

Not that she cared for our homage. She 
only wanted us to rejoice with her that she was 
well again. She seemed inspired with the 
riotous youth of the New World, and even her 
beauty was less magnetic than her supreme 
vitality. It was like a clear wave, white-crested 
with laughing foam, rising from the very Sea 
of Life, and it bore down upon those standing 
in the quiet waters, sweeping over and past 
them; it left them strengthened and quickened 
by the glad rush of its buoyant force. Christo- 
bel loved her sway over the hearts of men. She 
made a different appeal to each one of us. To 
Locke she was a wilful child who came to be 
amused, advised, or scolded, coaxing him with 
her dear, caressing ways. To Bertie she was 
a woman of the world laughing cruelly at a 
clumsy boy, yet who, when she saw she had 
really hurt, was ever quick to salve the wound 
with a soft word or a tender look. To Boy she 
was an abominable tyrant, and the more she 

abused him the more he abased himself. Nita 
178 


The Davosers 

said scornfully that he reduced himself to a pulp 
to please Christobel; she was none too pleased 
to find that her last year’s slave had found a 
new liege lady, and, for a while, she was very 
jealous. 

But Christobel was too great-hearted for 
rivalry, or perhaps, indeed, she was tired of 
lightly won devotion and sighed for the con- 
quest of one able to resist her. Moreover, she 
was greatly taken with the little Bryant girl’s 
piquant charm and quaint wisdom, so she went 
out of her way to woo Nita’s friendship. But 
she only met with cold repulse, and in spite of 
Boy’s expostulation and Locke’s straight talk, 
Nita remained obdurate, until one day Christo- 
bel herself made an unconscious appeal that 
kindled every generous instinct in Nita’s im- 
petuous nature. 

We were all out on the public balcony after 
lunch, revelling in the sunshine that flooded 
down from the glinting blue, listening amusedly 
to the hot indignation of Boy and Nita over the 
discovery that someone had nefariously bor- 
rowed their double toboggan. As they were 
179 


The Davosers 

going up to Clavadel with a “ tailing ” party, 
and the sleigh was even then waiting at the door, 
they swiftly decided to take a left-hand revenge 
by appropriating the best of the toboggans left 
leaning against the hotel wall, and were making 
a great clatter and outcry over the selection. 

Christobel’s eyes rested on Nita, admiring the 
easy poise of the supple little body on the well- 
planted feet, as the small strong hands hauled 
out the ungainly toboggans. What careless 
health I Christobel’s lips quivered and drooped 
insensibly and her lids dropped to veil the 
yearning in her eyes. But Nita, looking up, 
saw, and was not slow to understand ; her bright 
childish face grew gently tender, and before she 
turned to go she smiled at Christobel, saying 
softly, Good-bye, Miss Way.” It was her 
surrender, and from that day a lasting friend- 
ship grew up between the two girls. It was 
good to see them together, Christobel’s arm 
thrown lightly round Nita’s neck and Nita’s 
hand bent back to meet and clasp the long 
fingers that drooped over her shoulder. And 

though the golden head so much overtopped 
i8o 


The Davosers 

the red one, it could not dim the glory of the 
wonderful flame-coloured hair with its scarlet 
lights and purple sheen : Nita was like a little 
flaming poppy upstanding bravely against the 
tall wheat. And Christobel, in the full state 
and splendour of her beauty, with her corn- 
coloured hair and smooth sun-browned cheeks, 
was like most bounteous Lady Ceres herself as 
she walks in her own demesne amongst the 
mysterious rustling whispers of the myriad 
golden lances that bow themselves in trembling 
wonder as the wind sweeps over the field. 

But there were days when Christobel knew 
the fate that was on her — dark hours of terror 
when, alone in her room, she flung herself face 
downward on her bed and would not be com- 
forted . . . and when she came among us again 
with high-held head — 

“ Her blue, grave eyes were deeper much 
Than waters stilled at even,’* 

and it seemed as though she had taken her 
sorrows and made a crown for herself of 
them. 

In these moods she turned to me as a com- 

i8i 


The Davosers 

rade; there was an unspoken bond between us, 
for she knew that when she went whither she 
must go, alone and in the darkness, I should be 
so close behind her that she would almost hear 
my steps. 


182 


II 

“They make these yere churches too narrow.” 

— Limerick. 

That season was the best we ever had at Davos. 
The heavy snows came in the last two months of 
the year, and in January we had nineteen 
“ yellow days ” on end — days when the cloud- 
less sky above the white world was deep cold 
blue, when every moment was steeped in warm, 
golden sunlight, and charged with the buoyancy 
of the thin mountain air; days whose mornings 
and evenings were the rosy dreams of the nights 
of fierce, black cold. 

And the world went well with us then. Locke 
was pronounced cured, and talked joyfully of 
returning to his beloved colony. Flutter-by 
was doing splendidly, and the rest of us had all 
good reports from Rittner. Boy, Nita, and a 
man called Grey, also from our hotel, had rid- 

183 


The Davosers 

den to victory on La Fl^che ** (re-christened 
the “ Catch of the Season ”) steered by Captain 
Whyte. Flutter-by had been asked to take his 
old place as Two, but he had no time to spare 
from his skating, and was rewarded for his dili- 
gence by coming in second for the English 
championship. Therefore it seemed good to us 
to be merry; so there was light-hearted laughter 
and easy jesting, much bridge and flirting, the 
headlong joy of tobogganing for some, skating 
for most, and for all the wonderful Davos 
weather. 

Then the Rev. Luke Kershaw came to the 
hotel, and wondered at us. 

He was quite a good little man, and a bit of 
a sportsman, so we were inclined to like him. 
Although he was a parson who came to us 
straight from the flat bosom of a very low 
church, he was oddly like an altar candle, being 
very thin and straight, with a long white face, 
and a flaming golden head. He had the full 
broad brow and narrow jaw — the typical pear- 
shaped head of the religious enthusiast; but not 

the slack purse mouth that usually goes with 
184 


The Davosers 

them. His well-cut lips were firm, and his 
brown eyes were pathetically honest. It was a 
pity that he should have believed Mrs Poole 
when she told him that nine-tenths of the hotel 
were rushing headlong to perdition I 

Still, the pace must have sounded rather 
awful to him when you think that he was only 
accustomed to a middle-class suburban parish, 
where his parishioners trotted comfortably along 
the level road of respectable sin. It must have 
made his plastered hair rise as Mrs Poole said 
it, for she had a blood-curdling way with her, 
and a bluish, red-veined eye like underdone 
mutton. She was a bulky, middle-aged woman, 
and Mrs Wilkins said she ought to have taken 
to straight-fronted corsets earlier in life. Nine- 
tenths of the hotel corrupted her name into 
Puddle ” on account of her mind, which was 
shallow and dirty. She quite possibly knew a 
good deal about perdition : the trouble was that 
she knew nothing about us: wherefore she was 
pleased to deplore our frivolity to the Rev. 
Luke, and told him that Christobel Way was ** a 
butterfly fluttering on the brink of the Abyss.” 

185 


The Davosers 

“ But she seems so very well,” he wondered. 
” Isn’t she? ” 

” Puddle ” told him what Christobel made 
herself and us forget. 

He was very much shocked and distressed. 

” And it’s disgraceful how Mrs Wilkins lets 
her carry on with all those men,” added the 
censor of hotel morals. 

” They seem very fond of her, especially Mr 
Herries,” said his reverence, innocently. 

“ Flutter-hy! ” Her tone underlined the 
word with black dashes. ” The fastest man in 
Davos,” she added, as a clincher. 

The little parson flushed painfully. Flutter- 
by had been friendly to him on his first lonely 
evening in the hotel, and he was not ungrate- 
ful. “I thought he was very kind, and so are 
the others — at least, to me,” he faltered. 

” Do you think it right to receive kindness 
from such a godless set? Do you know that 
Mr Eyre is a scoffer, an Atheist? ” 

” But you should hear what Mr Herries 
says. . . .” The Rev. Luke clung haplessly 
to his illusions. 


186 


The Davosers 

Mr Herries! ” she laughed, unpleasantly. 
“ His friend. Of course, he would speak well 
of him. They are leagued together for evil,** 
and her voice was burdened with fell meaning 
as she glowered at him darkly. 

“ Oh, really! How very terrible! ** She 
had taken all the protest out of him, and he 
would have gone sadly away, but she stayed 
him. “ I consider that you have been sent. I 
thought so directly you came here. I have 
spoken ** — (she had) — “ but I only provoked ir- 
reverence. You have the authority to rebuke 
the ungodliness that goes on here. It is a duty 
the Church cannot shirk.** 

She left him with a bad pain in his soul, for 
he was by nature a gentleman, and therefore 
shrank from interfering with other people*s 
intimate private affairs. His warm heart had 
gone out to Flutter-by; shyly and humbly he 
admired Christobel : he wanted to like us, but 
— ought he to disapprove of us? 

It is a nice point to consider whether he had 
any right to waste the money his parishioners 
had subscribed to give their curate a rest, to 

187 


The Davosers 

recover from influenza and a nervous break- 
down, by worrying himself ill over an extra- 
parochial matter. Mere commercial honesty 
would have decided that he ought to have given 
them back their money’s worth by shelving 
everything that hindered him from gaining 
strength to put into his work. However that 
may be, the question never occurred to him. 
Perhaps there are some things that cannot be 
looked at from a business standpoint; and the 
Sea Lady was right when she said, “ There 
are better dreams.” So he sought Guidance. 

If you wish to sneer at his simplicity, you 
may; I cannot. And whatever you may think 
of our conduct in what followed (and I shall 
spare neither myself nor the rest of us in the 
telling), if we had known of this, there was not 
one of us that would not have respected him for 
what he did afterwards. 

He laid his Bible on the counterpane, kneeled 
down, and prayed. Then with his eyes still 
closed he reached out his hand and thrust it 
between the pages, and as the book fell open he 

read the words on which his forefinger rested. 

188 


The Davosers 

“ Now the word of the Lord came unto Jonah, 
the son of Amittai, saying; Arise, go up to 
Nineveh, that great city, and cry against it; for 
their wickedness is come up before me/’ 

It was enough. 

Then he received an invitation to preach at 
the morning service on the next Sunday, and 
was happy. But the “ Puddle,” whom he told 
of his coming opportunity, rudely dashed his 
confidence. 

‘‘You will not reach those that most need it 
thus. They never go to church.’’ (She did 
not mention that it was forbidden us by the doc- 
tor.) ” You must speak to them.” 

Fearful and anxious, he awaited Sunday 
morning, and when he looked down, from the 
pulpit saw with a sick heart that none of those 
to whom his sermon had been addressed were 
there to hear it. (As a matter of fact, Mrs Wil- 
kins and Nita were both at the back of the 
church, and they reported that the Reverend 
Luke Kershaw’s preaching was enough to give 
you the blues for a month.) He spent a miser- 
able afternoon wrestling with irresolution. 

189 


The Davosers 

There was no comfort in the Word — only re- 
proach, for he had turned to the first chapter 
of Jonah so constantly that now the Bible fell 
open naturally at the page; and by the evening 
he was racked with a throbbing headache and 
almost sick with faintness: Flutter-by and I 
noted that he ate no dinner, and wondered what 
was the matter with him. After dinner we 
lingered about in the hall as usual, until Mrs 
Wilkins ordered Christobel and Nita upstairs 
to get their things on, while the rest of us went 
out on to the balcony, where we foregathered 
every night to while away the last hours of 
curing with bridge; and waited for them. It 
was a clear, cold night; great icicles, arm-long, 
hung from the pipes, and the bright stars 
blinked so hard that it seemed as thought they 
were trying to wink away the tears from their 
shining eyes; beneath their chaste light the 
ruddy lights of the town seemed to flare as 
coarsely as the naphtha lamps on a coster- 
monger’s barrow* And beyond all was dreary 
whiteness. It was very cold; the shadows on 

the snow were blue with cold, the very stars 
190 


The Davosers 

were white with cold and the Milky Way was 
so thick strewn with them that it looked as 
though a pearly frost lay heavy on the Path of 
Heaven. 

Locke, Bertie, Boy Bartram, and I had settled 
down at the tables and began practising dealing 
in our woollen gloves. Flutter-by stood with 
Christobel’s fur sack over his arm, eager for the 
privilege of helping her into it: Grey was keep- 
ing guard over Nita Bryant’s, which lay on the 
floor, waiting to do the same for her. Then 
someone fumbled with the fastening of the 
double French windows and came out. It was 
the Reverend Luke. 

Bertie said “ Oh, d 1 ” under his breath. 

His vocabulary was limited, but we knew that 
he meant what we all felt — that we were none too 
pleased to see Kershaw. He was a decent sort, 

and, so far as we knew, harmless; still . 

But before we had even time to shout at him 
for coming out without a coat, he had clenched 
both hands on the back of the chair and began 
with desperate nervousness, in a voice tainted 

with the clerical drone: 

191 


The Davosers 

*■ Don’t you think that you might spend your 
Sabbath in a better way than in desecrating it 
by gambling? ” 

As a matter of fact, there were never any 
stakes when Christobel and Nita played, but it 
did not seem worth while correcting him. We 
had thought it was a man and a brother — but it 
was only a parson. We groaned inwardly, and 
Bertie wearily repeated his former remark. 

Locke looked up from his shuffling. “ Keep 
that for next Sunday’s sermon,” he said, with 
rough good humour. 

The parson flinched, but to our unspeakable 
disgust went on: ” Standing so near death as 
you do ” 

There was a sudden sound of the clatter and 
scrape of chairs being pushed back, and an up- 
raising of hostile faces, pale or flushed, to con- 
front the man who thus brutally reminded us 
of the curse that was upon us; who could so 
speak aloud before us all the thoughts that we 
dared not ponder in our hearts. But he went 
on unheeding ; this little man that would blench 

before an unkind look; filled with the same 
192 


The Davosers 

fanaticism that sustains the fakir on his bed of 
pointed nails. As he went relentlessly on, 
Bertie held his head between his hands; Locke, 
with set face and half-closed eyes, looked at the 
table; Flutter-by’s hands clenched and dropped 
open nervelessly; Boy leaned back in his chair 
with a face like tallow — I remembered that he 
sometimes fainted, and hoped that he would 
now. I also remembered that Grey was a 
Roman Catholic, and was angry that he should 
be there to see what he must regard as a display 
of the blatant, bad taste of heretics. Yet while 
these thoughts crossed my mind, I missed not 
one word of what the Reverend Luke was say- 
ing. He said unspeakable things — things that 
Flutter-by and I had never spoken even to each 
other — outraged our reserve, ravaged our in- 
most souls: he named the word that is never 
heard in Davos; he spoke of the fear of death, 
of corruption, and of the wrath of God. 

“ Shut up,” groaned Bertie at last. The 
words seemed to tear his chest as he dragged 
them out painfully. 

“ I must do my Master’s work.” 

193 


N 


The Davosers 

The phrase stirred a thought that had long 
lain uneasily at the back of my mind. 

“ That was healing the sick, wasn’t it? ” 
Locke’s eyes leapt directly I spoke. I saw he 
took my meaning, and guessed that he had 
thrust the thought away from him many times, 
as I had, but still it remained. “ That’s wanted 
here pretty badly. Can you do it — what? ” 

“ No, but I ” 

“ No — eh,” I drawled with delfberate offence. 
” Well, if I remember rightly, those that He 
sent could. So — unless you want us to regard 
the whole thing as tradition — perhaps we may 
legitimately conclude that He doesn’t take much 
interest in you.” 

I have seen men hurt; I have seen men die 
in agony, but never one looked as that little 
parson looked. My words had seared the very 
quick of his soul. 

My own hurt was so great that I was glad to 
torture him— till I looked at Flutter-by and the 
other two boys, and saw that I had laid my 
burden on their young shoulders without shift- 
ing it from my own. 

m 


The Davosers 

Then we became aware that Christobel was 
standing in the open window, and the sight of 
her made us dream of all the wondrous women 
who live in the songs of the poets; for though 
we knew her face as well as we knew the reflec- 
tions of our own, sometimes she seemed pos- 
sessed by a new beauty which held us breathless 
with delight. And now, as she stood there — 
with the upturned ermine collar of the long fur 
coat that lent fulness to her too slim figure stand- 
ing round her face as the white sheath of the 
arum lily encircles its golden column — I knew 
the meaning of her loveliness. The God Who 
had made her like that must love her too much 
to let her cease to be — our butterfly was the 
Evangel of the Resurrection. 

She stepped out, and Kershaw turned to her. 
He may have meant to reprove her, he may only 
have meant to appeal to her, but Flutter-by took 
him by the shoulders and thrust him in through 
the window and shut the doors on him before he 
could trouble her peace with his wormy thoughts. 

Within, Kershaw encountered Miss Bryant 
and Mrs Wilkins on their way to join us. 

195 


The Davosers 

“ Hullo, Mr Kershaw I Coming to play with 
us wicked people? ” said Nita cheerily. “Why, 
what’s the matter? ’’ 

He stammered out something of what he had 
said to us, and faltered that he “ hoped for their 
influence, er — and ’’ 

“ You haven’t been frightening my girlie 
with any of that stuff? ’’ interrupted Mrs Wil- 
kins, in sharp alarm. 

“ No; they wouldn’t let me. Mr Her- 


“ Oh, that’s all right! ’’ with a sigh of relief, 
for she knew how carefully he shielded Christo- 
bel. “ Why, even that featherpate has more 
sense than you have,’’ she grumbled. 

“ Did you really say all that to them? *’ won- 
dered Nita, My word, you’ve some nerve! I 
wouldn’t have cared to! What did Rex 
say? ’’ 

“ He said a cruel thing — horrible — ^blas- 
phemous ’’ 

“ Good old R ’’ indiscreetly began Miss 

Bryant. Then, touched by the crimson flush 

and broken voice: “ Poor you, though! No 
196 


The Davosers 

wonder you look as lively as a dahlia after a 
frost.” 

“ What did you want to go worrying those 
poor boys for? ” demanded Mrs Wilkins. 

“ I did it for their good. Mrs Poole said I 
ought to warn ” 

” Mrs Poole 1 ” snorted Mrs Wilkins, dis- 
dainfully. “ If the ‘ Puddle ’ is so fond of ’em 
why doesn’t she look after ’em a bit instead of 
telling ’em they’ll go to Per-r-r-dition. Flutter- 
by ’ll go somewhere if he puts on another damp 
vest. Why doesn’t she see his flannels are 
aired, and tuck him up at nights? She’s old 
and ugly enough to go into his room, good 
Lord! And what do you mean by saying such 
things to him? He’s as nervous as a cat and 
as sensitive as a child. 1 know him. He’ll 
laugh it off, and Rex will sneer, but they’ll both 
remember it afterwards and be miserable. Oh, 
you — parson I ” 

She flounced out, and we began to play. 
Christobel suspected something, and wanted to 
know what was wrong, but Mrs Wilkins told 
her shortly not to ask questions; it was only 

197 


The Davosers 

that the parson had been making a fool of 
himself. 

When we came up to bed, Flutter-by went to 
his room and I to mine without a word. There 
I tramped up and down, a prey to horrors, for 
half an hour until I was a man again. Then, 
weary, but in a sound mind, I went into Flutter- 
by’s room. I found him sitting on the couch 
in his shirt and trousers, with his arms resting 
on his parted knees and his hands locked, star- 
ing at the ground. He did not look up at first, 
and then he turned a grey, haggard face to me 
as I laid my hand on his shoulder. 

“ Dear old fellow, don’t — don’t take it like 
that,” I said unsteadily. 

” I can’t help it. It’s taken hold of 
me.” 

Then God knows I repented the words which 
left me powerless to comfort him. After what 
I had said . . . what could I say? 

“I’m not afraid, y’ know, but — life’s so 
good.” 

The load was lifted from my mind. If it 

were only that that troubled him. 

198 


The Davosers 

“ Look here, you mustn’t.” I spoke reso- 
lutely. ” You know you’re awfully well. 
There’s no fear of that. You’re going to be a 
cure.” 

There was a soft knock, which had not ceased 
sounding as Dr Rittner came in. 

We stared at him stupidly, as if we had been 
for a long time in the dark and he had turned on 
the lights suddenly. 

” I was sent for to a clergyman on the next 
floor,” he began, in a low, apologetic yet curi- 
ously insistent voice. ” He has a temperature 
— er — I don’t quite understand the case. He 
seems light-headed — er — entertains hallucina- 
tions, perhaps? Something about hell flames — 

and a whale ” (here we both choked out 

something between a chuckle and a groan, for 
the whale was new to us; it sounded so con- 
foundedly odd, coming from him like that), 
” and you two.” 

” He’s distressed about us. Came and spoke 
to us to-night. Thinks we’re going to be 
damned everlastingly,” I said unwillingly. 

“Ah I” 

199 


The Davosers 

“I’m afraid I said something that he might 

have taken badly “ 

“ Ah I “ 

There was a silence. I don’t know what our 
faces told him, but his betrayed nothing. He 
seemed absorbed in the case* 

“ The brain is abnormally excited,*’ he said. 
“ There is a fear of meningitis. All depends 
on the next hour or two — if he could be re- 
assured. I am sending a nurse, but I am afraid 
he is beyond her power and mine.’’ He looked 
at us. “ Fifty-four’s his room,’’ he mentioned, 
abstractedly. 

He was gone, and Flutter-by was getting into 
his dressing-gown. Mechanically I went up- 
stairs with him. As we opened the door we 
heard the little parson babbling — “ Out of the 
depths I called upon Thee— I was afraid of my 

fellow men and Thou didst forsake me ’’ he 

moaned. 

It seemed to be horribly indecent to be listen- 
ing to him talking like that— because the electric 
light was full on. I switched it off, and that 

gave another turn to his raving. “ The hot 
200 


The Davosers 

darkness. — ‘ The Lord sent a great fish ’ — Air 
— air! Lord, let me see the light again! he 
panted. 

Flutter-by struck a match to light the candle, 
and he started in terror. Flames! Look, the 
walls are burning! The scorch is spreading 
over the paper; the smoke curls from the edges 
— ah! 

“ There is no fire,” I began, but at the 
sound of my voice he stopped me with a shriek 
of terror. 

Flutter-by motioned me away, and I went 
into a corner where the dark shadows lurked, 
the darkest of them all. Then he sat down on 
the edge of the bed and took both the clutching 
hands in his comforting grip. 

“ It*s all right, you know, it^s all right,” he 
said, as soothingly as if he were speaking to a 
little frightened child- The parson lay still, his 
chest heaved less tumultuously, and he began 
to breathe evenly. Then his mazed memory 
began to work, and he broke out again wildly — 

Herries! You’re dead, I killed you. You’re 

hurrying to eternal damnation.” 

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The Davosers 

“ I was/' corrected Flutter-by, serenely; 
“but I’m not now. You’ve warned me, you 
know.” 

The parson opened his eyes, and saw Flutter- 
by’s face enhaloed by the circle of candle-light, 
looking down at him very kindly, but quite 
gravely. The rough, grey dressing-gown, girt 
only about the middle with a cord, which fell 
open at the bare throat, made him look more 
like a young monk than a roue; yet the Rever- 
end Luke regarded him doubtfully. Indeed, I 
myself began to wonder whether I knew Flutter- 
by as well as I had thought I did. 

“ Will you take my warning? ’’ 

“ Why, of course. You’re going to tell us 
what we ought to do. We’re a careless lot, I 
know.’’ 

“ I haven’t done you any harm? ’’ looking 
at him anxiously. 

“ Rather not.’* 

“ I thought I ought to speak, because ** 

“ Oh, it’s the very devil that ‘ thought I ought.* 
Beg pardon — I mean, well, you didn’t quite 

understand. You seem to imagine we don’t 
202 


The Davosers 

think about dying and that sort of thing. We 
remember it too jolly often.” 

” But ” 

” We don’t go about with long faces. Why 
should we? ” 

” But it ought to make you serious.” 

” Oh, rats I I mean you’re ab-solutely wrong. 
‘Rejoice I’ y’ know. That was Saint Paul, 
wasn’t it? I like him because he was a delicate 
little chap, and he never got any better. He 
didn’t have a very good time either. Scourg- 
ings and journeyings and all that, and yet he 
said, ‘ Again, I say rejoice.’ That was pretty 
fine.” 

” You — believe? ” fearfully. 

” Yes.” The word was so simply spoken 
that it left no doubt of his sincerity. 

“But he?” 

” Who— Eyre? ” 

‘‘Mrs Poole told me he was an atheist.” 

‘‘ Mrs Poole I Has she been getting at you? 
That accounts for it. What did she say about 
me? ” he asked. 

There was silence. Both flushed. 

203 


The Davosers 

“ Did you believe it? ” asked Flutter-by in 
a low tone. 

“ I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.” 

” Yet you ‘ thought you ought ’ to think me 
that? ” he said* 

“I’m sorry.” 

” Look here, when you were left alone, you 
believed the best of us. Wasn’t that more — er — 
Christian than thinking evil? Why did you 
listen to that old cat? ” 

” She’s a good woman.” 

” Is she? In what way? ” 

He had nothing to say. 

” Some virtuous women,” I said, ” think it 
will be enough if they can take the Lord that 
one commandment unbroken. Don’t you 
think He may say, ‘ Where are the nine ’? ” 

“You needn’t have let her take you in about 
old Rex,” said Flutter-by, reproachfully. “ I 
told you he was the best chap on earth. Don’t 
you think you might have believed that I know 
him better than she does? Atheist, indeed I I 
don’t suppose she even knows the meaning of 

the word. Anyhow, he only talks that satiricrd 
204 


The Davosers 

rot because he thinks it’s clever. It’s a habit 
with him now, just the same as it’s mine to run 
after the girls.” 

Flutter-by looked up at me appealingly, and 
I came slowly forward. I felt more friendly 
towards the Reverend Luke as I looked down 
on him lying in bed. He seemed very young, 
also his piously sleek hair was ruffled, and his 
clerical suit lay on the chair. A parson in 
pyjamas is much the same as other men. 

” I had no business to say what I did,” I said 
slowly. ‘‘I’m sorry.” We shook hands gravely. 

‘‘You made us feel pretty bad for a bit, but 
what fools we were not to spot that someone 
had put you up to it I ” went on Flutter-by. 

‘‘ It wasn’t altogether Mrs Poole.” 

“ Who else? ” 

He coloured nervously, and looked at me. 

‘‘ Let’s hear, please. I’m beginning to 
think we’ve done some misunderstanding too.” 

Then, in a few broken, shyly spoken sen- 
tences, he told us. Every one of his halting 
words flayed my conscience. 

‘‘ Why, you’re a better man than Jonah 
205 


The Davosers 

already,” said Flutter-by, heartily. “ You 
weren’t afraid.” 

“ I was. That is why I had to do it.” 

” I know, I know. You must, unless you’re 
a hopeless outsider. Look here, now, you 
ought to go to sleep. I mustn’t talk.” 

” No, please go on; I’ve been so hopelessly 
wrong, and I like to hear your voice.” 

” Well, you must be quiet then. Lie down 
and try to get off.” 

The parson obediently shut his eyes and 
turned over on his side. Then Flutter-by very 
gently let light into the dark places of the 
church. 

” Y’see, you must get to know us. Locke’s 
just great, keeps us all going. It’s part of the 
cure to be cheerful, y* know. Boy and Bertie 
are most awf’ly decent, so’s Grey. As for Miss 
Way — well, you’ll simply fall in love with her 
— like the rest of us. She’s so lovely and so 
plucky. . . I can’t talk about her. . . . Per- 
haps you think Mrs Wilkins is a bit noisy, and 
she doesn’t care what she says, does she? But 

she’s most awfully good to us bachelors — darns 
206 


The Davosers 

our socks and things, y’ know. You don’t 
suppose ‘ Puddle ’ even does a stitch for us? 
She won’t come near you now you’re ill. Mrs 
Wilkins’ll nurse you. ... I expect you’re 
right about bridge on Sunday. But, you see, 
somehow Sunday evening’s such a confounded 
time for getting the hump. If I don’t do 
something I begin to think of the mater, and — 
I want to go home — and it doesn’t do to mope. 
I suppose you’d say we ought to have more 
self-control. Well, p’r’aps we ought. Any- 
way, I’ll give it up if you like. It’s pretty 
feeble to go on doing a thing you disapprove of 
from sheer slackness.” 

Then the nurse came softly into the room. 

” Now, you’ll be all right. Go to sleep, 
Jonah, and don’t you worry. Nineveh’s O.K., 
or, anyway, it’ll keep till to-morrow. Good- 
night.” 

He was only ill for a few days, and during 
his convalescence we beguiled him with bridge 
six days of the week; except for an inclination 
to go no-trumps on a too light hand, he has a 

very fair notion of the game. Mrs Wilkins 
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The Davosers 

has adopted him as one of “ her boys,” and 
bullies him shamefully about eating his food. 
He answers to the name of “ Jonah,” though 
nobody but Flutter-by and I know how he came 
by it. 

Save one — Christobel. He and I were sitting 
with her on her balcony one evening watching 
the soft radiance of the after-glow that was 
thrown on the white snow by the sunset. After 
a little silence, Christobel, looking at neither of 
us, but out across the valley, said slowly, 
‘‘ What happened that Sunday night? ” 

We told her somehow — between us. He 
would have slurred over our share in the scene 
on the balcony, so I had to give it myself. 
Christobel listened in thoughtful silence. Some- 
times she gave a quick look at him, or nodded 
gravely to show that she understood; once she 
touched my arm. 

When the sorry tale was ended, she stretched 
out both her hands to Jonah. 

“ I — I’m frightened,” she said, with a sob 
in her voice, ^because they can’t help me — not 

even the strong, wise ones; Mr Locke and you, 
208 


The Davosers 

Rex. That’s the worst. Oh, how it frightens 
me to feel that you’re afraid I Auntie won’t let 
me think about it, and my poor Tony can’t 
bear me to speak about it. I don’t think he’d 
mind for himself, but it breaks his heart — for 
me. But you,” her eyes shone with tears as 
she turned her glad face to him, ” if you can 
be so brave — you can help me.” 

I left them together and went away with a 
thought hammering at the door of my mind and 
forcing entrance. For once in my life I was 
inclined to agree with Mrs Poole and to con- 
sider that little Jonah had been Sent. 


209 


Q 


Ill 

“ Here Life said, ‘ Look what I meant to do ! ’ 

And Love sighed, ‘ Think what I missed ! ’ 

Gold Hair.” 

— Browning. 

As I look back on the last short months of that 
winter, I can say deliberately that Christobel 
was utterly and serenely happy. The dark 
shadow of fear was no longer upon her; she 
lived joyously from day to day with the divine 
carelessness of perfect trust. And I know that 
the comfort that little Jonah left with her stayed 
and sustained her even in that day, when by 
evil chance she had learned what Flutter-by 
forebore to teach her from the lips of Roddie 
Sandys. 

I recognised him the instant I set eyes on 
him; although I had not seen Roddie since I 
left Winchester, for the boy had grown into a 
210 


The Davosers 

man without any other change than develop- 
ment. The good-looking, narrow face that had 
never been boyish had still the old look of 
worldly intelligence and the old pleasantness, 
until you met the fine, bold eyes; but now it 
was not only the expression of these that be- 
trayed him ; there was a covert hint of rakishness 
about the very set of his shoulders and the back 
of his sleek head. I had heard the whole dis- 
graceful story of his marriage ; the club bet of 500 
to I, that, within a fortnight, he would be en- 
gaged to marry the frozen-mutton heiress to 
whom he was not yet introduced; the proposal 
before breakfast by which he had managed to 
pull off the wager within the given time, and the 
infatuation of the girl who had met all warnings 
with the reiterated decision, “ I do not wish to 
hear any stories about Mr Sandys.” 

Yet he was a likeable fellow, and I forgot the 
sins that never troubled his memory as we re- 
called the match against Eton — he was keeping 
wicket for the School — and when I was put on to 
bowl, between us, we had got five men out for 

eleven runs. As we were talking, Christobel 
211 


The Davosers 

came up to me with a pencil and a subscription 
list, elate with the consciousness that she could 
make blameless practice of all her allurement in 
the sacred name of charity ; and Roddie watched 
her appreciatively as she mulcted me of an 
augmented donation. I did not mean to pre- 
sent him, and this I think Christobel divined; 
for she was about to move away without making 
any appeal to him, when he quietly asked me if 
anyone were allowed to subscribe? 

The cunning deference of this indirect 
address decoyed Christobel, and she answered, 
with delectable frankness, “ Indeed they were 
— they wanted all the money they could get.” 

He gave her twenty-five francs, and when he 
handed back her paper, she glanced at the 
small, elaborate signature with considerable 
interest, then read out, in great surprise: 
“Roderick Sandysl Lord Chiswick’s son? ” 
“ Very much at your service. And since I 
could not possibly have forgotten you (his eyes 
sought hers) I can be sure that we have never 
met. And yet you know my name! How far 

my little candle sheds its beams! ” 

212 


The Davosers 

But Christobel’s manner stiffened, and, lifting 
her chin, she said with cold significance: 

“ I was at school with Girlie Darling.” 

The retort was evidently as unexpected as it 
was disconcerting, and Roddie’s plausibility 
failed him. He beat on the arm of his chair 
with his open fingers, and at last inquired 
guardedly : 

“ May I ask if you were very great friends? ” 

Christobel made a proud little face. “ We 
weren’t in the same set,” she said quickly, but 
she missed the veiled look that glinted from 
under his lids, because her thoughts had harked 
back to her hair-ribbon days, when plain living 
went with high spirits, and Girlie Darling had 
been a part of the half-cloistered school-world. 
She forgot Roddie’s identity, though a sub- 
conscious memory of the question stayed with 
her, and she exclaimed with a spontaneous 
intensity : 

” I couldn’t stand her I ” 

” Neither could I,” said Girlie Darling’s 
husband mournfully. 

The audacity of it was irresistible : I am sorry 
213 


The Davosers 

to say that Christobel and I both burst out 
laughing. But with school-girl loyalty she 
stopped herself almost at once, vexed at her 
indiscretion and angry with him. 

“ I oughtn’t to have said that to youj” she 
said with some dignity. “ I wasn’t thinking; 
but you— well, anyway — you needn’t have 
married her.” 

And so saying she left us. 

Roddie seemed rather amused at Christobel ’s 
dutiful disapproval as he enlarged to me on the 
subject of his wife, 

” She had fifteen thousand a year,” he said, 
confidentially, ” and I was just about broke. 
The marriage would have worked out all right 
if she’d only had horse sense enough to have 
treated it as a mutual arrangement. But she 
cultivated romantic tendencies, and, of course, 
if you will shut your eyes to solid fact you’re 
bound to run your head against it. I assure 
you she worked herself up into believing it was 
a pure love match. Good Lord! I told her I 
couldn’t rise to it. Then one morning she 

came down to breakfast and told me that I didn’t 
214 


The Davosers 

understand her yearnings, and that she was 
going back to mother. So I ordered the car- 
riage for her and waited till she was out of the 
house and then I went off on a motor tour.” 
Then grinning like a dog he quoted, “ Bride 
to Bridegroom — ‘ Magnificent 30 h.p. Siddeley- 
Wolseley car.* Good Lord I . . . And who*s 
Girlie’s lovely friend? ” 

Next time she met me, Christobel took me 
aside. 

” Wasn’t it dreadful of me to say that to Mr 
Sandys? ” she said contritely. 

” Well, it was rather,” I admitted. ‘‘Sup- 
posing he’d happened to be devoted to his 
wife! ” 

‘‘ Oh, I know all about t/tai,” said Christobel 
with fine scorn. ‘‘ I heard it from a girl that 
keeps up with Girlie.” 

The mutual friend seemed to have given her 
a fairly inclusive account of Roddie, and Chris- 
tobel was hot against him with all the terrible 
wrath of sex. But there remained the old 
antipathy, and the moment after she had worked 

215 


The Davosers 

herself into a passion of sympathy for “ poor 
Girlie! — she would break out — “ Oh, she was 
the most maddeningly irritating girl that ever 
was I ” 

It seemed that Miss Darling had worn her 
friends to rags with her immoderate enthusi- 
asms. “ She couldn’t learn a movement of a 
Beethoven Symphony without buying a bust 
and a biography,” complained Christobel. 
” Then the next week she’d give them both 
away, and tell her master she hadn’t any time 
for practice because she was taking up Art. 
She was like that all through. And when she 
got excited she’d shriek and skip with delight. 
You shouldn’t do that when you’re short and 
thick. No, she had rather a handsome face, but 
she had carroty hair and she wore a strawberry- 
pink blouse! Oh, please! ” 

I chuckled, but I told Christobel that none of 
these were cardinal offences; which she ad- 
mitted, with the admirable qualification that 
they were worse. 

” It was bearable unless she happened to like 

you,” she allowed, ” but when she did, it was 
216 


The Davosers 

too awful for words. I know, because once she 
tried to get up a rave about me. She used to 
hug me, and lay her head on my shoulder and 
roll her great, staring, goldfish eyes at me. I 
nearly died until she started adoring someone 
else. And I’m sure she persuaded herself that 
she was frantically in love with him until she 
actually was. Poor, poor fellow!” Then she 
remembered that she ought not to haVe spoken 
so compassionately, and hardening her heart 
she concluded in a tone of steel-cold justice, 
” Still he never ought to have married 
her.” 

She glowered for a little while, then asked me 
dubiously, ” Ought I to cut him? ” 

I considered. ” No, I don’t think you’d 
better do anything marked. Show him quietly 
that you aren’t going to know him.” 

And Christobel said approvingly that she 
would. 

But this was not very easy to do, for though 
Roddie was wise enough to disarm her hostility 
by accepting her disapproval with melancholy 

resignation, he was sufficiently crafty to make 
217 


The Davosers 

opportunities to protest his injuries; excusing his 
delinquencies with such ingenious wit that 
though Christobel had too much sense to be 
convinced by his arguments, she had too much 
humour not to admire his impudence. 

“ I assure you she’s got all she married me 
for,” he told her; ” all the kudos of being the 
Hon. Mrs Roddie Sandys, without the encum- 
brance of an unsympathetic husband. She 
had lace motifs ‘ wrought * with her initials and 
a coronet specially made to put on all her 
things. The newspapers were full of ’em. 
They were the leit motif of the match. Well, 
she can still wear ’em. Ask me no more.” 

He loved to make her laugh against her will ; 
to see her dropping discreet lashes over her 
sparkling eyes ; straightly straining the red 
curves of her mouth against breaking into a 
smile. 

” Girlie told Mary Grant that she never even 
said a cross word to you,” she reproached. 

Roddie heaved a deep, lugubrious sigh. 
” Can’t you imagine how I wished she 
would? ” 


2^8 


The Davosers 

And Christobel rippled into involuntary 
laughter. 

“ Oh, I give you upl ’* she said in despera- 
tion. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, 
and you aren’t. It’s no good saying any 
more.’’ 

And for several days she would not speak to 
him. Then she relented: it was really too 
much trouble to keep up a feud with him, and 
so he was occasionally allowed to be amusing on 
any other but the forbidden topic. 

Indeed in these days she had very little time 
or thought for anyone but Flutter-by: the two 
were almost always together, yet this sweet 
companionship was all she had to give him : she 
had no time to love — only to live. And the 
story of Flutter-by’s supreme passion must be 
left untold, because my pen will only write of 
the things that I know, and he never spoke of it 
to me. I do not think he would have if he could 
have found the words. It was a thing apart — for 
her and her only. And yet he must never tell 
his love. 

Roddie watched them one day as they sat 
219 


The Davosers 

together, at the other end of the hall : Flutter-by 
was relating some experience and Christobel 
was enjoying it immensely, laughing at his 
point of view, with that unalloyed delight that 
is never known to those who take thought for 
the morrow: then he said thoughtfully, rather 
to himself than to me — 

“ She’s an exquisite girl. And that’s 
all.” 

” Isn’t that enough? ” 

” No.” He drew his brows together 
musingly, for the thing was sufficiently subtle. 
” There’s one thing wanting — Promise. She’s 
all she’s going to be. And she isn’t a woman 
— but that might come? ” He said the words 
as though he questioned them. 

He looked over at them again with steady 
eyes, then he asked: ” Are they engaged? ” 

” No. It isn’t even thought of.” 

” Rather hard luck on our young friend.” 

I made no comment. 

” Is she in love with him? ” 

” No.” The word was almost violent, for I 

was remembering that Mrs Wilkins had once 
220 


The Davosers 

said to me, “ Thank God she’s never cared for 
anyone! Thank God for that! ” ^ 

“ H’m.” The deliberate murmur was preg- 
nant with intent. “ If I stay here I shall make 
love to that girl not a little.” 

• While Roddie held himself in hand he might 
pass for no worse than the rest of us, but when 
desire mastered him, there was no mistaking 
the man he was. I knew him now as he said 
with indrawn breath, ” I want her.” 

” Is it any good reminding you that you are 
a married man? ” 

” Not if you’re going to talk about my duty 
to my wife.” 

” I never waste words. There’s only this that 
I want to say. You thought that marriage was 
a slip-knot — ^and so it is with such as you — but it 
draws tight as well as loose. You may break 
your marriage vows as often as you please, but 
remember that you can never again make 
honourable love to any woman as long ‘ as 
ye both shall live.’ That’s where the rope 
galls.” 

He moved uneasily as though he felt the 
221 


The Davosers 

coarse, hempen fibres scraping his throat, and 
his face was dark with helpless anger. 

** And even if you were free — even if you 
were a decent fellow — I’ll say it again if you 
like. . . . She’s not for you, nor for any of us. 
Would you be brute enough to take her to the 
threshold and let her see that the door is shut? 
All that a man who loves her can do is to 
let her die without knowing what she’s 
missed.” 

He did not attempt to answer me, but he got 
up irresolutely, digging his hands deep into his 
pockets as he stood with one foot on a chair, 
looking down at the seat in frowning thought. 
At last he said : 

” You needn’t kick me out. I’m going.” 

Late that evening, when everyone had gone to 
bed except a few of the men in the smoking- 
room, I cut out; so I said good night and left 
them. As I crossed the hall, I saw a new By- 
slander lying in an armchair, which I picked 
up to look at, then sat down to read. A few 
minutes later, from my corner nook, I saw 

Christobel slip gently downstairs, go into the 
222 


The Davosers 

drawing-room and come out again, carrying a 
white-bound copy of They ’* which she had 
evidently come to fetch. She was a little 
breathless with hurrying, so she moved slowly 
across the hall and Roddie Sandys met her full 
as he came out of the bureau. He could not 
see me, and his eyes leapt as they fell on her. 
The encounter was unexpected. A queer evil look 
came into his face, but I do not think he knew 
what he meant to do except act on the moment’s 
impulse. 

Christobel spoke at once. “ So you’re going 
down to Italy to-morrow, Mr Sandys. That 
means the early train, doesn’t it? We’d better 
say good-bye now,” and she held out her hand. 
He took it and came a step nearer to her; his 
pale, set face was very close to hers; one move- 
ment would have drawn her to him — and, once 
captive, her fresh lips were his. A single 
quiver of fear would have given her into his 
power, but Christobel was wholly unafraid. 
Tall, young, and very sweet, she stood before 
him in her maiden panoply, and her fearlessness 
prevailed. 


223 


The Davosers 

I had come quietly forward, but though he 
must have known that I was there he recked 
nothing of that. Stooping his head, with one, 
last, burning, upward glance, he put his lips 
to her hand; holding them to its softness until, 
at long last, the impassioned pressure ended 
with the consummate kiss. He drew himself 
upright, and still holding her hands, he looked 
into her eyes, then without speaking, let her go. 
And as he turned away from her — there stood 
Flutter-by I 

They faced each other, but Roddie did not 
flinch : he was fiercely unashamed of what he 
had done, and, with a look that dared the 
younger man to upbraid him, he stood his 
ground for a moment before he strode 
away. 

And we did not hinder his going, for all our 
thought was for Christobel. My heart stood 
still when I saw how strongly she was moved. 
Her face was dyed with a rose-red flood; her 
lips were parted, her eyes were wide and fear- 
fully bright; the shining blackness of the pupils 

dilated and spread over the blue iris. She had 
224 


The Davosers 

felt something more than homage thrill in that 
accursed kiss. Then the emotional travail told 
upon her bodily weakness ; her colour blanched, 
and stretching out her hand to Flutter-by, she 
swayed faintly towards him. If he had known 
one moment of jealous agony, it ended when 
he saw how naturally she turned to him. He 
took her in his arms and his hands tightened 
round the slender wrists, as thought his clasp 
might quiet the racing pulses when she moaned 
in a rushing, broken whisper: “Tony, Tony, 
what was it he made me feel ? * * 

He could not answer her, and then she loosed 
herself, and placing both hands on his shoul- 
ders, her eager eyes searched his face as she 
put the piteous question ; 

Tony, would you love me like that — if I were 
well? 

“ My darling I My darling! “ 

And then Mrs Wilkins came and gently took 
her from him. 

Next day we heard that Christobel seemed no 
worse for what had passed; but Mrs Wilkins 
225 P 


The Davosers 

was very sure that Flutter-by had better go 
down to Montreux with me as we always did 
before the thaw set in. It would be better that 
Christobel should be quite alone for a little 
while. 

“ We want no more men here,” she said to 
me in bitter wrath. Yet she said that Flutter- 
by might come up to Davos again at the end 
of March to say good-bye to Christobel before 
going home for the summer. So they parted 
. lightly and without sadness. 

He left me to spend a few days at Genoa with 
some friends, and so it happened that I did not 
hear from Davos for nearly a week. And then 
one mild spring day as I was reading my Times 
out of doors, glancing idly down the front page, 
my eyes caught the words: — ” On the 25th 
inst., at Davos, Christobel, beloved only 
daughter of Thomas J. Way.” 

The ugly black type grew cruelly large and 
clear, then wavered into a black haze. 

Dead I 

A little while I sat stunned and in utter dark- 
ness, then I remembered that when she raised 
226 


The Davosers 

her eyes to mine in parting I had wished them 
to brim with tears rather than be filled with 
such mute exceeding sorrow; and I was glad 
that she had not been left even a little longer, 
breaking her heart for the grief of her still-born 
womanhood. 


227 


IV 

COMRADES 

It was the last day of March, but Boy and Nita 
were still at Davos. They were leaving for 
England the next day, Nita in charge of Mrs 
Wilkins, with Boy to look after them both. The 
place was getting very empty, but still the Platz 
was too crowded for their mood, so they had 
agreed to go up to the Schatzalp and take their 
last look at Clavadel and Frauen Kirche across 
the valley. It was growing late, and the moon’s 
crystal crescent was alight in a sky of tenderest 
wood-violet blue, and the beauty of it comforted 
the heavy-hearted boy and girl who stood on 
the wide balcony of the restaurant which over- 
hangs the mountain-side eight hundred feet 
above Davos. Nita’s tear- weary eyes gazed 

unseeingly across the roofs and sharply pointed 
228 


The Davosers 

spires of the town to the thawing snows beyond ; 
then a sob broke in her throat, with the involun- 
tary words: 

“ Think of next season without her! 

“ I shan’t be here,” said Boy quickly. ” I 
ought to qualify this midsummer term. Then 
I’m going to set up in practice — abroad I think.” 

Nita nodded absently. ” Have you heard 
from Flutter-by? ” 

” Not a word. He’s breaking his heart some- 
where.” 

” I wonder if he’ll come back next year? ” 
said Nita tentatively. 

” Think so, if Rex does — and he’s got to. 
Flutter-by won’t let him be here alone. There’ll 
be no one else of the old set. She*s dead, 
Locke’s gone. I’m going, and Bertie’s off to 
Colorado Springs. They’ll be the only two left. 
Seems to me they’re clearing the minor char- 
acters off the stage ready for the last scene. 
Wonder what’ll be the end of the play? ” 

Nita thought that he had forgotten her, and 
as she looked at him with curious interest she 

saw that a change had come upon him. It 
229 


The Davosers 

seemed to her that he then attained his man- 
hood, and for the first time she was afraid of 
him. 

Then without looking at her he took the hand 
that was hanging by her side and, linking his 
fingers in hers, he said unsteadily, ‘‘ Nita, I 
want you to marry me. I don’t think it would 
be much of a lottery for us, dear : we know each 
other and our limitations pretty well. You’ve 
seen the worst of me, and I think I can give you 
the best. We’ve had our dreams — ^both of 
us he broke off abruptly, and in the en- 

suing silence Nita’s eyes grew misty as she 
remembered the touch of Flutter-by’s lips, but 
she let her little fingers curl round Boy’s; then, 
as he clasped them kindly and they stood there 
hand in hand, it seemed to them both that they 
were taking solemn leave of the sweet of their 

youth. “ And they’ve gone by us — ^and 

I’ve got to go away and turn my back on 
Davos.” 

He looked down into the valley, letting his 
eyes rest fondly on the town he would never see 

again, then he went on unsteadily: ” It will 
230 


The Davosers 

draw me — you know how it draws you — and I 
shall be with people who think of it just as a 
name on a map — and they won’t understand. 
Then I shall hanker for someone to talk it all 
over with me — the old set, the old loves, the old 
times. Nita, if you come out every season you’ll 
never come back to them — someone who’ll feel 
what I feel, who hears the same past calling. 
Nita, I want you? You’ll come, dear? ” 

He took both her hands between his and held 
them to him while he waited for her answer. 
Then Nita looked bravely up at him and he saw 
her lips say Yes,” before she bowed her head 
and laid her cheek against the hands that held 
hers. 


231 



BOOK III 

Passing the Love of Women 




{ 


i 


\ 

i 


] 


’ 


I 


“When I am dyitag, lean over me tenderly, softly 
Stoop, as the yellow roses droop 
In the wind from the South ; 

So I may, when I wake, if there be an awakening, 
Keep what lulled me to sleep — 

The touch of your lips on my mouth.” 

— Lawrence Hope. 

The snow is coming I 

I feel it in the air, as one feels thunder, and 
shiver and tingle with the dread delight of it. 
A great lowering cloud hangs over us like a 
curse. I see the storm come up over the pass 
and sweep down the mountain side; I hear the 
far-away rush and roar of it, though as yet no 
flake falls on Davos. 

And I grow sick with the strain of watching 
and half-faint with excitement, so I turn my 
eyes away from the distant outlook and idly 
turn over the papers in my letter-case. Among 

235 


The Davosers 

them is a rough-edged sheet on which in silver 
lettering; “ Mr and Mrs Bryant ** invite me to 
be present at the marriage of their daughter, 
Anita Mary, to Dr Hugo Bartram.” Next to 
it is a black-edged card: “ The Hon. Richard 
and Mrs Ray White return thanks for Mr 
Reginald Eyre’s kind sympathy in their late 
bereavement.” 

In the other pocket is a cheery letter from 
Locke at Port Elizabeth. He is doing splen- 
didly and working hard; has not even had time 
to write that book about Davos which is going 
to make the snows blush. He expects to hear 
all the latest news of the old hole from Boy 
and Nita. Thinks South Africa will suit Boy 
and that he will be able to work up a good 
practice where he means to settle. Glad to hear 
Flutter-by’s so famously well. Poor old Bertie. 

And what of Flutter-by ? 

For three months after Christobel’s death I 
did not hear from him, then when at last there 
came a lengthy and affectionate letter, there was 
no other mention of her than that implied in 

the abrupt appeal, ” Forgive this long silence.” 

236 


The Davosers 

I could well understand that he could not 
bring himself to write of his sorrow, since he 
had never told me of his love, and I blamed my- 
self for having missed his confidence, for the 
silent understanding that had served us while 
she was alive had become an insurmountable 
barrier of reserve. If ever the boy had needed 
counsel and encouragement, if ever I could have 
proved my friendship, it was now, and yet all 
I could do was to leave him to eat out his heart 
in dumb misery. 

He came to me while I was so ill this last 
September, and as soon as I had strength 
enough to think of anything but the utter con- 
tent of knowing that he was there, I began to 
observe him closely and to watch him as one 
does watch those friends who have lived through 
a great sorrow. But I could find no change in 
him and was, in some vague way, disappointed. 
He was just as light-hearted, just as keenly 
enthusiastic as he had always been. Some- 
times, indeed, I did think that there was a 
thought more of earnest purpose behind his 
careless enjoyment of life and of unselfishness 

237 


The Davosers 

in his g’ny good-nature, but this was manifested 
by such intangible trifles that I doubted its very 
existence. 

But of one thing I was certain. He was 
happy. And I felt that this should not have 
been, without at first knowing why I was grieved 
that it was so. But when my thoughts grew 
clearer and my emotions more poignant, I found 
out the nature of my hurt. Day by day the 
pain of it grew more intolerable, but still I 
believed that I kept its very being hidden from 
Flutter-by. 

It was late one night after a long dull evening, 
when I had feigned to be reading, because such 
a heaviness was upon me that I knew if we 
talked together I must betray myself ; presently 
I felt his eyes on me, though my face was half- 
shielded by my book. In vain I resisted the 
unseen gaze; its magnetism unsteadied me, and 
just as I knew that in another instant I must 
turn to him he began with trenchant gentle- 
ness. 

“ Rex, you’ve got something against me. 
What have I done? ” 

238 


The Davosers 

My better nature prompted me to deny the 
charge, but the selfish, miserable thoughts fes- 
tering in my sore heart overcame the impulse 
with their malignant strength, and there broke 
from me the unwilling word “ Christobell ** 

He looked entirely astonished. “ Is she to 
come between us — now? ** 

It was ease unspeakable to have broached the 
matter. It was more than good to know that 
he would now force the hearing of the whole 
bitter grievance. 

“You cared for her — you loved her? ** 

“ Yes.” 

“ And you’ve forgotten her? ” 

“ Have r? ” said Flutter-by quietly. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Let’s leave that alone for a minute. What 
if I have — what is it to you, I mean? ” 

“ Memento mori» If you’ve forgotten her, 
how long will you remember me? ” 

He turned on me instantly, with reproach in 
his eyes, his hands shut quickly, he half rose, 
he made as if he were going to answer me, but 

he remained sitting in his chair and could not 
239 


The Davosers 

bring himself to speak. Then, seeing that I 
had more to say, he controlled himself to listen. 

“ Tve a sick notion that when you do forget 
me I shall know and feel it on the other side, 
just as though I were here. And that’s not the 
worst of it. These days, when I’m tired, my 
brain’s full of mists and I see my thoughts — 
looming, distorted terrors — moving about in the 
fog, bearing down on mej and there’s one 
hideous dread that keeps on whispering that the 
very last wraith of me will be held in your 
memory and that when you let that go I shall 
be altogether out of existence,’* 

Still he did not speak, only he put his hand 
on my shoulder and I tried to quiet myself, for 
I had a yet harder thing to say, 

^ And Christobel, If ever I believed any- 
thing, I believed in her life, I had a feeling 
that she could not die,*’ 

“Had you?” His face lightened. --Had 
you? ” 

But I was following out my own train of 
thought. 

“ To me it’s the death of the old that’s fear- 
240 


The Davosers 

ful. You watch their gradual decay; you see 
the powers of mind and body wane. You feel 
that it is because they are worn out that they 
fail. And mayn’t the soul be done with too? 
But she — would even a fool dare to say that 
Christobel’s life was ended with all that beauty, 
power, and youth unfulfilled? She was the 
Evangel of the Resurrection. The God that 
made her what she was must have loved her too 
much to let her cease to be. All my hope was 
in that faith. And you — you — when I come to 
believe that she’s no more to you than the dust 
and ashes they threw into her grave, I know that 
she’s dead — body, soul, and spirit.” 

When I had made an end, spent with the 
passion I had suffered, he got up and walked 
across the room before he faced round on me, 
saying hotly: ” Rex, how much of this is purely 
a part of your weakness? If you can tell me 
that, I shall know better how to answer you. 
It is a passing hallucination? Will it be gone 
when you’re well again? ” 

” God knows. All I can say is that until it 

is gone I shall not be well.” 

241 g 


The Davosers 

“ Then you must hear me out. You charge 
me — if things are as you believe them to be — of 
disloyalty to her and to you. You must hear 
them as they are. I shall keep back nothing, 
but I’m not going to protest my honesty. 
We’re fallen on evil days if I am to have to 
justify myself to you.” 

His anger was easier to bear than his mere 
compassion would have been. It braced me into 
something like strength of mind. 

” Flutter-by, I wish I had left myself the right 
to say that you need tell me nothing. But now 
the only justice I can do you is to let you speak.” 

He nodded gravely, but he said more gently, 
” That’s SO. And you’ve said one thing that 
makes the telling of it not so hard. The whole 
thing turned on a point that I couldn’t have' 
conveyed to you. If I’d any idea that you’d 
got hold of that, I should have let you know the 
rest long ago.” 

Nevertheless, in spite of the reassurance of 
my half-knowledge, it was a little while before 
he began, and even then he had hardly achieved 
coherent thought. 


242 


The Davosers 

“ Those first days — after I’d heard — I fought 
against it in the black dark. I’d thought that 
when the time came I should have been ready 
to let her go, but not then — not so soon. I’d 
had so little y’ know, so awf’ly little I 

He made no sound, but I saw his strained face 
as he turned away. Then he went on un- 
steadily : 

You know what she was — and how I 
worshipped her — and I swore to Mrs Wil- 
kins that I wouldn’t speak. I never kissed 
her even ; she said I should when I came 
to say good-bye. That was why I was going 
back. . . . 

“ Then, later, I thought of coming on to you, 
but I felt, after what I’d gone through alone, I 
wanted no one — no one who’d speak to her, no 
one who’d known her. And I was afraid you’d 
come on to me, so I left Genoa; but I didn’t go 
far — I hadn’t the money — only to Nervi. And 
there I tried to face the future — the rest of my 
life without her — and the thought maddened 
me. I told myself that the only bearable thing 
would be to forget. I wanted to lay my love 

243 


The Davosers 

on her grave and let it die there, like the flowers 
I’d told them to send from me. 

“So I set myself to forget — and the days 
were not so bad, but the nights were awful. 
Awful I I might have got more rest on the 
rack than on my bed. I thought that I was 
never going to sleep again, and I knew that I 
should soon be ill, and I was glad. 

“ So things went on, and then one day when 
I came in to dress for dinner I found the light 
wasn’t on, so I left the switch turned down and 
went and lay on the bed. It was almost a relief 
not to have to hold up my head, and I fell 
into a sort of stupor, but through my sleep 
the pulses in my temples kept throb — throbbing : 

“ ‘ Christobel! Christobell ’ 

“Then I woke — or thought I did — and she 
was standing by the bedside smiling down at 
me. 

“ Ah! 

“ It didn’t seem strange — it seemed right — 
because it was her. You understand? ’’ 

He broke off eagerly. “ I tell you I saw her — 

her Self. And she wasn’t dead. No — she 
244 


The Davosers 

wasn’t dead. She was alive. She was well. 
She was real — not flesh — but substance. I 
could see her face and her hair, and her long 
white dress. There was a square gold band at 
the throat — stuff, not metal — with a raised 
pattern of roses worked on it in gold thread — 
roses like this,” and picking up my pen he 
sketched me a faint, sure outline of some flat, 
heraldic, Tudor roses and leaves. 

” And she was smiling — just her old, laugh- 
ing, triumphant way; then she said, just a 
little sadly, but so very tenderly, ‘ So you think 
you will forget me ! * 

” I don’t know what I said. I asked her 
over and over again to forgive me, and her 
eyes smiled as though she understood every- 
thing and knew that nothing could ever mat- 
ter any more. I begged her to let me ""kiss 
her before she went — I told her she’d promised 
me. 

” Then she grew very grave and she shook 
her head, but she looked — how she looked! 
There’s no word for it; transfigured only begins 
to tell you. And she said, ‘ If you do, you will 

245 


The Davosers 

remember me always.’ And I told her that was 
all I asked. 

“ Then she leaned over me and she laid her 
hand on my forehead — the touch of it was like 
sunlight, and the pulses were quiet. And when 
I kissed her something like a sword-thrust 
stabbed through the quick of the pain, killing it. 
Then she kissed me — and it was peace. 

“ And then I think I fainted, for when I 
opened my eyes again the light was full on and 
she was gone.” 

For some time the story held me silent, then 
I began. ‘‘You say you ‘thought you woke.’ 
Were you asleep afterwards? ” 

He shook his head helplessly. “ I suppose I 
must have been, but I can’t remember the 
second waking — only that she was there and 
then she was not.” 

‘‘ Let’s leave it at that. It’s enough for me.” 

‘‘ And for me. ... I can’t see into the future. 
I’ve no notion what Time will bring me. I 
may even marry — I don’t know. But Beyond 
—I’m hers.” 


246 


THE DESERTER 


The thing leaked out gradually. We did not 
even know that Saunders was dead until after 
the body had been taken away to the mortuary. 
The same day that he died it was hurriedly put 
into a shell coffin and carried downstairs; 
through the hall past the very doors of the 
dining-room while we were all at dinner. The 
sound of the bearer’s measured tread was 
drowned by the clatter of plates, the hum of 
meal-time talk and the bursts of occasional 
laughter. I remember that we had a great joke 
on that evening and were very noisy about it. 
That seemed to make it more horrible, though 
the proprietor took great credit to himself for 
having managed the affair without casting a 
gloom on the hotel. 


The Davosers 

When the freshness of the shock was over, 
people began to speculate in hushed tones: 

“ I wonder what ? ** 

‘‘ I wonder if ? 

Then they questioned outright — “ How did 
he die?” 

For he was not very ill. There was hardly 
anything the matter with his lungs. Nerves? 
Yes. One saw that at once: that was why he 
was so morose and irritable, and why he gloated 
over his morbid forebodings and churchyard 
jokes: it was these traits of his character that 
made him avoided by everyone who did not wish 
to be infected by his pessimism. He was out 
by himself ; he would neither cure nor yet see 
a doctor — he resented all persuasion to do either. 
When everyone else was out in the sunshine he 
would sit brooding alone in the dark smoking- 
room. 

Drugs? Ah. We always thought so. He 
looked like it. 

An overdose? Yes. 

Then the horrid suspicion that could not be 
spoken : 

248 , 


The Davosers 

“ Not— not ? ” 

And one, with pallid face and sickened eyes, 
nodded. 

“ How awful I ** 

Saunders! 

The thought of him comes to the wakeful in 
the weary night watches. One loses the horror 
of what he did — there remains the fascination of 
why he did it. He being the master of his fate 
saw no reason why, since life was burdensome, 
he should not quit himself of it. 

‘‘ Wise man.” 

Some say it; others think it. The man and 
his deed haunt us all. 

“Saunders I Can you hear us down there — 
you with the unconsecrated earth lying heavy 
upon you? Are you sleeping quietly — you that 
trouble our rest? 


249 


Ill 


“ There was a Door to which I found no key; 

There was a Veil, past which I could not see; 

Some little talk awhile of me and thee 

There seem’d — and then no more of thee and me.” 

— Omar Khayyam. 

“ Good-bye, Flutter-by! Good-bye, Flutter- 
by.” 

My braifi seemed a tense wire that sang a 
droning burden of those words whenever actual 
voices were not speaking of them. For this was 
the last time he and I would ever walk down 
the Platz together. The very last time. 

And they would not let us alone. People kept 
on meeting us, overtaking us, crossing over the 
road to us, all wanting to stop Flutter-by and 
say good-bye to him. He was going away 
from Davos almost as soon as he had come out, 
in the very prime of the season, for to-morrow 
was the last day of the old year — the last year 

of the dear old days. There were some things 
250 


The Davosers 

that he and I must say to each other; surely 
these men and women must know that, and yet 
they would not leave us alone. I had not had 
a chance of speaking to him since he had 
brought the father’s letter to my room yesterday 
evening. It was a hurried, excited scrawl : The 
son of an old friend who had gone out to Cali- 
fornia had bought a frost-blasted orange grove 
for a mere song, and sat down to starve patiently 
through the seven tedious years that must pass 
before the trees would fruit again. But now at 
last his glorious golden crop was ripening, he 
could hold out no longer ; his money was gone, 
he had not a penny wherewith to pay for the 
gathering, packing, and freight of his oranges. 
He must borrow — raise money on his expecta- 
tions: in short, he had written to Mr Herries; 
and Flutter-by’s father had bought a partner- 
ship for his son. 

And he was to go out at once. 

Parts of the letter were decidedly incoherent, 
but it was quite clear that Mr Herries thought 
that, considering the climate, the nature of the 
work and the almost certain promise of amaz- 

251 


The Davosers 

ing profits, it was the chance of a lifetime for 
Flutter-by. 

So said Rittner. So said I. For so it was. 

But, for me 

It grew more tolerable as we got towards the 
end of the town, for that is beyond most people’s 
evening stroll. I had not walked so far this sea- 
son, but I was not tired. We went on, till we 
had left even the outlying chalets behind us and 
were on the road to Frauen Kirche, but where 
it branches into a Y we chose the left fork which 
leads up to Clavadel. We crossed my favourite 
little bridge over the Landwasser — and, without 
lingering, began to climb the road which runs 
athwart the mountain side through the dark 
aisles of the pine-woods that gave us sanctuary 
from the troublesome world. The quiet still- 
ness of the evening was very good. 

We began to talk — each speaking as though 
he had already uttered the thoughts he had been 

thinking. “ Y’ see I’ve cost the dad such 

an awful lot — he’s not rich, and there are the 
others: Frank’s just ready for Oxford. I can’t 
stay.” 


252 


The Davosers 

“ I know.” 

“ Besides it’s time I put in some work — I’m 
twenty-six and I’ve done nothing yet but 
lounge.” 

” And I’m thirty-three — ’Member that chap 
Lorton singing ‘ His day’s work was done.’ 

Meant to be a comic song, wasn’t it? Well, 

it’ll be the making of you. Don’t think I don’t 
see that.” 

Flutter-by nodded gravely and squared his 
shoulders; then he looked at me with troubled 
eyes. 

‘‘ I wish I could have stayed until you were a 

bit more fit And I hate leaving you here. 

You wouldn’t miss me so much anywhere else.” 

” No. That’s so. And yet I wouldn’t lose 
what’s gone — even to be spared what’s to 
come.” 

We had turned back and still I had not said 
what I wished to Flutter-by. We walked down- 
hill silently until he stopped, faced me, and said 
impulsively : 

” Rex, I’ve never told you how much I owe 
you — or thanked you. You’ve kept me straight. 

253 


The Davosers 

When I came out here, a callow young ass — 
Lord! what a man I thought I was! — reckless, 
because I was in a blue funk about myself — Pd 
have gone wrong as hundreds of better men 
have, from sheer frightened folly, if it hadn’t 
been for you.” 

And then I managed to tell him — somehow — 
without breaking down, what he had been to 
me. 

It was late when we got back to the Platz 
and most of the people had gone in to their 
hotels. We met only homely, ruddy-faced 
Switzers hurrying home from work. We might 
almost have forgotten that it was for the last 
time, but that half the shops we passed showed 
oranges in their glowing windows. 

We said nothing, and tried not to notice 
them, but it was cruel work: at last we stopped 
involuntarily in front of a grocer’s. There 
were garish-coloured bunches of glass grapes 
hanging in the window, lighted from behind, 
beneath these were three great yellow pyramids 
of oranges, and one or two, cut in halves, lay 
on the ground in front of them. 

254 


The Davosers 

Flutter-by stared intently into the white- 
rimmed, juicy pulp of one of these. 

“ Telling your fortune by the pips? ” 

“ Trying to.” 

” ril read it for you: orange-blossoms and 
golden fruit. Good enough.” 

‘‘You vant orranches? ” the Frau Speiserin 
appeared in the doorway. 

‘‘ Von feefty for twelf. They are so verra 
goot.” We said that we were sure of it, for she 
seemed an honest soul and kindly; so Flutter- 
by and I told her as nicely as we could, that 
we didn’t feel just like oranges that evening. 

Flutter-by had to call in at the Alexandra, so 
I walked on to the Schiahorn alone and found 
that while we had been gone, some of them had 
been getting up an impromptu farewell dinner 
to Flutter-by, to which all his particular friends, 
both men and girls, in and out of the hotel, 
were bidden. Afterwards there was to be 
speeches, toasts and a sing-song. I groaned 
wearily : and yet I was pleased that they should 
do him honour. On the landing of our floor, 
I met Rittner coming down from above. He 

255 


The Davosers 

inquired for Flutter-by, saying he wanted to 
say good-bye to him that night as he was going 
off by the early train in the morning to a medi- 
cal conference at Basle. I told him that Flutter- 
by would be up in a few minutes. Some things 
require an effort to bring them about, especi- 
ally when two people are concerned; each has 
to overcome the embarrassment of not knowing 
what the other really wants: but that Rittner 
should come into my room and there wait for 
Flutter-by seemed to be so inevitably right and 
natural, that it was done without either of us 
suggesting it. 

There was something I wanted to ask him : I 
tried to speak steadily, but the question burst 
out from me hoarsely — “ Shall I see him 
again ? ” 

Rittner was studying my temperature chart. 
As he turned round to me his face was as im- 
passive as a death mask; all but the eyes, and 
they were kind and thoughtful. 

“ How long is he to go for? ” he questioned 
gently. 

“ Five years.*’ 


256 


The Davosers 

“ Ah.” He shook his head. 

“Not if I stay here all the time? ” 

Still he shook his head; gravely, but not posi- 
tively. 

” Suppose it were four? ” 

” I could not say: yours is a very difficult 
and obscure case.” 

” Three? ” 

” Perhaps — with very great care. Your con- 
stitution is naturally so good ” 

” Two? ” 

” I think so.” 

” One? ” 

” Oh, surely.” 

My stunned brain tried to think, and as pain 
forced its way through the numbness, one clear 
thought rose out of my wits’ chaos. 

” Then why shouldn’t I go with him? ” 

The thought waxed strong in my mind as 
the doctor paused before he answered me. Why 
not? Why not? Why stay in Davos, hug- 
ging my bitterness and loneliness, for one year 
surely — possibly two — three perhaps — ah I Why 
endure needlessly 

257 


R 


The Davosers 

“ If you could go without having the journey 
— if you could get there by wishing; you would 
do as well in California as you are doing here. 
But the voyage — you’re sure to get bad weather 
at this time of year — and then all across America 
in a jolting train! ” 

He waved the thought asidcj and then spoke 
again very gently. 

“ There comes a time when I say to the 
patient: ‘You may as well go home,’ but that 
time has not yet come — for you, and I cannot 
give my consent to your throwing your life 
away.” \ 

” It’s a matter of no concern to anyone but 
myself,” I said roughly. I was expectant of 
any answer from a stern rebuke to an acquies- 
cent shrug, but not of the slowly spoken ques- 
tion : 

‘‘You remember Saunders? ” 

Saunders! Would the fellow never rest quiet 
in his self-sought grave! But what had he to 
do with me? 

‘‘ I’ve been fighting with him all this winter. 
He’s undone more of my work than the English 

258 


The Davosers 

climate. When one man falls out the others 
begin to flag. You have felt it? ” 

I had; but still I hardly saw Rittner’s drift. 
“ If I were to let you go now I should be 
allowing you to do the same thing as he did. 
And then I should no longer be able to say that 
he was wrong. Others would come to me say- 
ing, ‘ We’re tired out of this dragged-out exis- 
tence, You let him go. Why are we to stay?’ 
... I am the Viceroy of Providence when I 
have to decide between life and death, and my 
answer has always been the same: if a man 
could cut himself off from humanity, then his 
life would be his own. But we are chained to- 
gether in gangs — Life’s prisoners. You think 
not? Then consider this. You were not a 
friend of Saunders; you hardly knew him; you 
did not like him, but if he had not done what 
he did I think I should have to let you go.” 

Then Flutter-by came in, and Rittner turned 
to him cordially. He did not say very much, 
but there was more real warmth in his quiet 
friendly words than in many of Flutter-by’s 
friends’ more emotional farewells. 

259 


The Davosers 

As he left the room, he turned back, saying; 

You will have a tiring day to-morrow. Get 
to bed as soon as you can.” 

He spoke to Flutter-by, but he looked at me. 

The dinner went merrily. There was a plenti- 
ful babble of light talk, a constant ripple of 
mirth, which now and then rose into a shout 
of laughter; and a rapturous clamour as they 
toasted him. There was a quiet moment when 
I leaned over the table, and the thin glasses 
clinked together as our eyes met, and we 
pledged each other. 

When they called for a speech — he rose with 
his hands in his pockets and his shoulders 
thrown back, and spoke with simple directness, 
though there was a throb of very real feeling 
in his voice, which now and then made it falter. 

” I want to thank you for the splendid send- 
off you’ve given me; but I can only say I shall 
never forget it — or you. Nor yet all the good 
times I’ve had at Davos. And to-night I’m 
thinking of all the friends that I’ve ever known 

here — all the Boys of the Old Brigade, and all 
260 


The Davosers 

the Girls of Yesterday, as well as you that are 
here to-night — I give you a double toast; ‘ To 
Those who have Gone On.’ ” 

We drank it soberly, for I think there was 
not one of us that did not fall under the glamour 
of the impalpable something that moved him, 
which seemed to draw the past back to the pres- 
ent, till the room seemed filled with shadowy 
forms in the likenesses of the men and women 
who had once been Davosers. I know, through 
the haze that dimmed my eyes, I thought I saw 
the old set: Locke, Bertie, Boy, Nita, Mrs Wil- 
kins, and lovely, laughing Christobel thronging 
round Flutter-by. 

“ ‘ And to Those Who Stay Behind.’ ” 

We had hardly lifted our glasses when we 
remembered we could not drink to ourselves, 
and set them down again. Then it came upon 
Flutter-by that he was beyond the Pale, an out- 
sider : he was cured, and so no more one of Us. 
His hand shook as he raised the wine to his 
lips, and sorrowfully he drained his glass alone. 


IV 

“ And they went both of them together.” 

— Gen. xxii. 6 and 8. 

The hall was filled with people waiting to say 
good-bye to Flutter-by, exclaiming at the sight 
of him bowdlerised in the garments of respec- 
tability, his head bowed with the unwonted 
weight of a hat — an abominable billycock — and 
his comely outline blurred in his blue Serge 
unanimity. He seemed to have put off a part of 
his personality along with the shooting-jacket, 
the dark green knitted waistcoat, the neat 
breeches, and heather stockings that were 
almost as old Davosers as he was. 

It was a curious thing, but, whereas last night 
they had had no thought but Flutter-by, this 
morning they looked at me. They were watch- 
ing me, kindly, critically, wonderingly — they 

were watching me. Was it possible that per- 
262 


The Davosers 

haps someone who knew what staying meant 
to me might thereby take courage for his own 
need. It was while pondering these things that 
I caught something of a low-toned conversation 
between Flutter-by and Captain Whyte. 

“ It would take a weight off my mind if I 
knew you were looking after him a bit.” 

” I’ll do what I can — if he’ll let me. I came 
over this morning partly to tell you that. But, 
you see, he’s never been really thick with me. 
And I know him — he’ll want to fight out his 
trouble alone and — he hasn’t the strength for 
it. Pity some of your set aren’t here. Locke 
or the little Bryant girl would have managed 
him. . . . But anyway. I’ll stand by.” 

” Thanks.” 

” I’ve a sort of a notion what it means to him 
— you two were always more like some of the 
fellows in the classics than latter-day friends. 
It seems to me that it’s one of those cases when 

it’s quite useless and d impertinent for an 

outsider to offer sympathy.” 

There was a farewell crowd at the station — 

lungers, sadly envying his good fortune in get- 
263 


The Davosers 

ting away from Davos; sportsmen, bewailing 
his hard luck in having to leave just as the 
winter sport was in full swing and without hav- 
ing another try for the Bowl ; all grieved to lose 
him, pushing and thrusting to shake hands with 
him, eager to stay with him as long as might 
be, greedy to see the very last of him. 

But that was to be my privilege. 

I made the jealous vow in my heart, pricked 
to it by the thought that everyone of that 
throng, even though he were but the merest 
acquaintance, would lightly say “ Good-bye — 
good luck ” to Flutter-by. And a man can say 
no more than that, however much he feels. So, 
lest my God-speed should sound but a stupid 
echo ; lest, when he called to mind his last sight 
of me I should seem but one of the throng ; lest 
he should think that I cared no more for him 
than they did; lest, seeing me with them, he 
should for one moment believe that I was not 
alone, I must needs stay with him until they 
had all left us, so that he might always remem- 
ber my face and my voice as the last sight and 
sound of Davos. 


264 


The Davosers 

And so, when the guard came along and 
began to hustle Flutter-by aboard the train, and 
he turned with a despairing look to grasp my 
hand, I said quietly: 

I’m going on to Dorf with you.” 

His face grew bright. ” Good,” he said. 

And so we went on together. 

As the train drew slowly back through the 
town, Flutter-by took his last look at it through 
the carriage windows, and when we passed the 
Alexandra he waved back in answer to the 
handkerchiefs that fluttered from the balconies. 

” There’s Miss Davis doing her everlasting 
threes,” said Flutter-by, with a grin, as we went 
by the rink; but there was sadness in the re- 
membrance that, though she would without 
doubt go on doing her threes everlastingly, he 
would not be there to see. 

In a few minutes we were in Dorf, and even 
before we stopped I caught sight of enthusiastic 
hands waving to us, as a crowd of men and 
girls from the Dischma pressed forward to greet 
Flutter-by, crying gaily, ” We thought we’d 

come here to see the last of you.” 

265 


The Davosers 

Whyte was among therri, and I cut short his 
suggestion that we should walk back together 
with the curt statement that I was going on to 
Klosters, for, without being churlish, I could 
not have otherwise refused the offer, and I knew 
that when I left Flutter-by I should be minded 
for no man’s company. 

As the train moved off I heard Whyte ex- 
claim excitedly, He’ll kill himself if he tries 
to walk up from Klosters,” and a weary voice 
sneered wonderingly, ” Poor devil, would you 
stop him? ” And so we journeyed on to- 
gether. 

The train crawled cautiously down the moun- 
tain, and, after a bout of silence, when we were 
getting near to the station Flutter-by said, 
” Come on to Landquart. You’ll get just the 
same train there as you would if you waited 
here.” And I consented gladly when I saw 
without astonishment most of the Toboggan 
Club rallied on the platform awaiting us. They 
had, as they told us, got up a surprise expedi- 
tion and come down on bobs to see ” the very 

last of Flutter-by.” I knew they would not 
266 


The Davosers 

have let me set out alone, and I should have 
had to have hung about the station for an hour 
or more unable to shake them off. 

So again we went on together, and at each 
succeeding moment the thought of going back 
without him seemed harder and more unbear- 
able. 

There was no opportunity of sentiment at 
Landquart. We had only just time to get 
lunch, herded together in the restaurant with 
all and sundry. Among these were two pretty 
second-rate girls to whom Flutter-by had been 
introduced at a dance, who had since made des- 
perate efforts to pursue the acquaintance. On 
seeing him they exchanged discreet bright-eyed 
glances ; evidently they considered the gods had 
delivered him into their hands that the tiresome- 
ness of the journey might be enlivened by a 
flirtation. 

They addressed him effusively; “ it was so 
nice to find someone whom they knew going 
the whole way; they always got into muddles 
when they were alone*’; and they began to 

make those little guileful appeals that are so 
267 


The Davosers 

hard for a kind-hearted man to refuse to maidens 
all forlorn. 

As we left the restaurant they showed signs 
of relentless pursuit, but Flutter-by managed to 
shake them off and to say to me hurriedly : 

“ Do, for heaven’s sake, come on to Zurich 
with me.” 

I could have laughed at his distressed face as 
I said, “ All right.” Nevertheless, I was 
pleased enough to shelve the question of re- 
turning until it forced itself upon me. 

And so we went on together, smoking peace- 
fully as a protection and a solace. 

It was our usual custom to put in the four or 
five hours waiting at Zurich, for there was a 
convenient train which took us on to Basle in 
time to pick up the Vienna express, after we had 
had our stroll round the old town and dined at 
the Bauer au Lac. But when I saw our two 
damsels getting out and looking round alert- 
eyed for Flutter-by, I said hopefully, ” Let’s 
go on to Basle and wait there.” 

And Flutter-by, heaving a sigh of relief, said 
” Good.” 


268 


The Davosers 

So we journeyed on together for a while 
longer. 

We talked a little of common things and of 
the past, but for the most part sat thinking and 
thinking in silence, and so, late in the after- 
noon, we reached Basle — the last change — 
whence Flutter-by would go on direct to Calais 
and I back to Davos. His train — the Vienna 
express — did not leave till between ten and 
eleven that night, so we arranged to dine at an 
hotel opposite the station. I made no enquiries 
as to my own journey, but I was pretty sure 
that I could get a train back to Zurich, if not 
to Landquart, after I had seen the last of 
Flutter-by, though I might not be able to get 
on to Davos till next morning. 

We would have rather preferred to stay quietly 
in the room we had engaged for the evening, 
but that the proprietor would not allow. “ The 
gentlemen,” he said, ” must see the town — the 
cathedral — the Rhine,” which, he insinuated 
with a flourish, the Town Council had induced 
to flow through Basle for the express benefit of 
through travellers. 


269 


The Davosers 

As he practically turned us into the street, 
we wended our way through the town in the 
darkling twilight. We found the vaunted 
cathedral to be no more than a large church, 
squat and homely as the typical German-Swiss 
woman. The coloured tiles on the roof are ar- 
ranged in a conventional pattern — a kind of 
coarse mosaic — and over the main entrance is 
the legend of St George and the Dragon, neither 
painted on the plaster nor carved in bas-relief 
on stone, but set forth by a ponderous life-sized 
wooden model. It gives one the idea that per- 
haps it was once the toy of some giant child, 
who, tiring of it, smeared a dab of glue on the 
haunch and shoulder of St George’s charger 
and stuck it on to the wall of the church. The 
horse and rider are one side of the door, 
George’s mighty spear stretches over the eaves 
of the porch, and the dragon, squirmingly im- 
paled tliereon, adorns the opposite side. 

Flutter-by irreverently suggested that it 
looked as though the saint and the loathly worm 
were playing see-saw. As for me, I did not 

thrill at the sight of our champion’s glorious 
270 


The Davosers 

exploit. I was more in the mood to be sorry 
for the dragon : I felt sure he had been mis- 
understood; I should have liked to have patted 
his scaly neck and told him that it wouldn’t 
hurt long, because he would soon be nice and 
dead. 

We came to the Rhine and looked down on 
the river, just as we used to look at the stream 
at Clavadel. Then I remembered that the 
Landwasser fed the Rhine, and that some of the 
dark waters that flowed by us so steadily had 
come down from Davos as we had and were 
making their way to the freedom of the sea, as 
we — ^as I was not. 

Then Flutter-by, drawing a breath so deep 
and heavy that it was almost a groan, said, with 
heartfelt emphasis: 

“ I wish you were coming too.” 

” Same here,” but I do not think he heard 
me, being lost in thought. For we had come 
down three thousand feet and our veins were 
no more charged with the buoyant gladness of 
the heights; the heaviness of the plains was 

upon us, which possesses a man’s whole being 
^71 


The Davosers 

with yearning sadness, as the damp of the low- 
lands fills the air with mist. 

“ I hate the notion of going off all alone,” 
he said drearily. “I’m a social animal — and, 
I suppose, a lazy beggar, for I’m ungrateful 
enough to think that it’ll need a pretty stiff 
effort to begin putting my shoulder to the wheel 
now. When I was eighteen it was the top of 
my ambition to be off somewhere and make 
my own way — Lord! how hot I was to go. 
But at twenty-six it seems a cold-blooded 
business to leave everyone I care for and 
the places I’ve grown used to. I ask for nothing 
better than to lie snug on the warm hearth- 
stone.” 

As he spoke thus faint-heartedly my spirit 
waxed strong within me, I felt as I had almost 
forgotten I could feel ; my pulses throbbed with 
strength, my heart beat with hope; the red riot 
of youth surged over me with the full spring- 
tide of manhood and I laughed as that wanton. 
Fate, might herself have laughed, to see how 
little he to whom she flung her favours valued 
them. 


272 


The Davosers 

“As it was in the beginning, is now, and 
ever shall be; 

‘ I know the joys of kingship. Welly thou 
art the king.* 

Good God I man, are you too dead to feel how 
good it will be to go out to battle again? To 
take your life in your hand to fling away if need 
be — to fight, to thrust, to climb, to press for- 
ward, to feel the heat and burden of the day, to 
share the common lot and no more stand aside 
— unfit. . . . You’ll smell the sea and feel her 
heaving under you and hear her lapping against 
the side of the ship. I’d stake my chance of 
Heaven for the month that Rittner gave me if 
I went with you, and die thanking God at the 
end of it.” 

He looked at me in great amazement. “ If 
you feel like that,” he said excitedly, “ why, 
then — cornel ” 

Once the thing seemed possible, the practical 
side of it occurred to me. 

“ I’ve only a few francs on me. Have you 
enough to get me to London? ” 

273 


s 


The Davosers 

“ Um ! ” He was working out the sum in his 
head. “ Yes, just, if weVe careful.’* 

“ Lucky I’ve got my coat. I must sponge on 
you for other things on the way.” 

Flutter-by burst out laughing. Well, they 
always did say I’d elope with somebody before 
I’d done,” he remarked, ” but I’m hanged if 
I ever thought it would be you, Rex. . . . 
Well, come along and buy a tooth-brush.” 

So after all this Sturm und Drang we went 
along and bought a tooth-brush, for it always 
so happens that whenever we pitch our notes too 
high for mortal strain, twang! goes the string 
of banality. Men heve hacked their way out 
of prison before now with broken potsherds and 
leaden spoons, but never either in fact or fiction 
has a tooth-brush been the instrument of liberty. 
Yet not till that trumpery thing was bought, 
paid for, and pocketed did I feel that I was really 
pledged to go. Flutter-by was ridiculously, 
boyishly gay, and I, pulsing with excitement, 
laughed with him, putting resolutely out of my 
mind the thought that I had not told him all 

Rittner had said. So we had a cheerful dinner 
274 


The Davosers 

and a pleasant hour or more in the hotel before 
we crossed the Platz again and went into the 
huge station, the central junction of the Con- 
tinent, through which day and night (but mostly 
in the unholy hours of the bleak cold of the 
morning) trains glide bound for every corner of 
Europe. Some plunge into the dark St Goth- 
ard out into the Italian sunshine and down 
the long Apennines to Rome and the south ; 
some wend their way through the thick of Ger- 
many; others speed on into France; while one 
which had gone further still, through Vienna, 
Budapesth, Warsaw, and to the strand of the 
Black Sea itself, was now coming to take us 
away with it. 

But it wa3 not due yet, and so we waited 
in the great barn-like Wartsaal. Every now 
and then a blue-bloused porter appearedj and 
after he had rung his bell, which resounded, 
brazen-tongued, in our ears, his mighty voice 
trolled out the destinations of the trains that 
were about to depart: 

‘‘ Frankfurt — Mainz — Koln — 

It seemed as though the emptiness were a 

^75 


The Davosers 


silent gong and that every one of the sonorous 
German names a stroke that set it booming. 
All around us people sprang up, hurriedly 
hastening away with perturbed faces obedient 
as to the knell of doom. It made one twitch 
with impatience merely to see them and gave 
one a curious sinking feeling of having been 
left behind. I was gazing dully at the clock, 
when Flutter-by began abruptly, “ So Rittner 
gave you a month. Did you tell him how you 
felt about it? ** 

“ Yes.*’ 

“ And what did he say to that? ” 

“ He said ” 

“ Well? ” 

“ ‘ You remember Saunders? * ” 

“ What — on — earth? ” and his blank face 
demanded what I was not altogether sorry to be 
unburdened of — all that Rittner had said to me. 
At first he listened in half-scornful wonder, then 
as he grasped the meaning and import of what 
I was telling him, his face fell, growing set and 
drawn as he stared over his locked hands at the 

ground between his knees. 

276 


The Davosers 

“ It makes a difference,” he said slowly. ” I 
see that.” 

He nodded solemnly and then shook his head. 
” Don’t you? ” he demanded suddenly. 

” See it? Yes, I see it. But what would 
you do if you were in my place — if you were 
me?” 

He took me up. ‘‘They’re not the same 
thing,” he said instantly. ‘‘ If I were in your 
place. I,” his face paled. ‘‘ My God I I 
couldn’t go back,” he flinched. ‘‘I — I couldn’t 
face it. But then I’m only one of the feeble 

folk. If I were you ” He turned to me 

fondly, his eyes alight with that rare smile of 
his, but then the proud confidence died out of 
them and there remained only the curious watch- 
ful look I had seen on those other faces. He 
was too humbly honest to urge me to do what 
he believed he could not have done himself. 

Then my eyes were opened by second-sight to 
see into the years to come. And I saw Flutter- 
by, tried beyond his strength, struggling, 
wavering, saying in bitter hopelessness that a 

man always falls if only the temptation is great 
277 


The Davosers 

enough, remembering how I, whom in the ful- 
ness of his heart he had thought to be the best 
fellow in the world, had yielded to the supreme 
test. 

“ I shall go back,” said I, and Flutter-by 
bowed his head. 

It would have been a brave thing to have gone 
back for the sake of those others, finest of all 
to have gone because I believed it was fight to 
do so, but I was going simply because I did 
not think it was well that Flutter-by should lose 
faith in me. For no better and no worse reason. 

But there was no exultation in me — only the 
grim resolve of dread intent. I would go back 
to Davos; yes, nothing should hinder me. I 
would be careful, oh, but very careful of the 
poor broken flesh for whose sake I was bidden 
to suffer — until I was safely into the train that 
would take me up from Landquart to the end 
of my journey without change — and then ? 
Well, I would pray to Death, the only one of 
the Great Abstractions that manifests himself 
to the sons of men, that I might not begin the 

year without Flutter-by. Then as the train 
278 


The Davosers 

climbed heavily upwards and we drew near to 
Davos and still he had not heard me, why then, 
thank God, I could easily free myself from 
bondage — a mighty effort to raise an obstinate 
window — a jarring stumble, was all it needed 
. . . They would find me when the train 
stopped, and Davos, that would forget my very 
name and every spoken word of mine, would 
long remember the silent irony of the triumph- 
ant return of the Man Who Came Back. 

Clang I 

“ Delle — Lille — Calais — ” 

The train I 

It was time to go. 

We hurried out on to the platform. Great 
globes of electric light poured their white radi- 
ance down on us. It seemed to me that every 
thing stood out with that curious, unreal 
distinctness which, before the coming of rain, 
makes the distant landscape seem so near. I 
felt as though I had but half-waked from sleep, 
till I started to hear a gentle voice say : 

“ Good evening.” 

Rittner! 


279 


The Davosers 

He might well have been more surprised to 
see me than I to see him, but if he was he 
did not betray himself ; indeed there was some- 
thing more affirmative than inquiring in his 
question. 

“ You go with him? ” 

“ No.” 

”AhI” 

” I did not mean to come so far — and Pm 
going back.” 

” Ah! ” 

” Then I meant to come on — but I’m going 
back.” 

” A-aa-hh.” He walked on a few steps with 
me, whilst Flutter-by lingered behind; then he 
demanded under his breath — ” Pour encourager 
les autres? ” 

“No. D the others.” I looked at him 

straight between the eyes as I thought ” and 
you, too.” ’‘I’m going back because I don’t 
choose that the boy shall see me turn coward.” 

” Ah.” 

This time the monosyllable was not inelo- 

quent : it seemed to imply that he saw my point 
280 


The Davosers 

of view, without committing himself to agree 
with it. 

But I cared very little whether he understood 
or not, being only concerned with the thought 
that he would take me under his care, and that 
I should not be able to try that bout with 
Death. 

For I knew friend Death was afraid of Ritt- 
ner, and that he would not dare to open the 
door of the pent-house for me, while I was with 
him. 

Through these thoughts came the sound of 
Rittner’s voice. 

He seemed moved, almost to excitement, and 
though he spoke in English it was easy to tell 
by his intonation and the turn of his phrases 
he was thinking in German. 

“. . . A curious thing, this instinct! 
Imagine a man, old, yes, and tired after arguing 
the day long with blockhead scientists who, 
only in what they can prove, believe. The fire 
is warm, the chair comfortable and the paper 
not too dull, yet he is full of a restlessness that 

tells him to go to the station. He knows that 
281 


The Davosers 

he will find there only a young man to whom 
last night he bade farewell. Therefore what 
need to go? But instinct will not be quiet and 
so he goes to confound the sots of reason. And 
he finds that he is wanted. But for what? 
Ah I ” 

As he paused in thought, a curious eerie feel- 
ing crept over me. 

His manner was so unlike him — so, what my 
innate insularity called “ foreign ” — his coming 
was so strange, that I caught mySelf wondering 
whether in the flesh the tired old man was not 
still resting in the armchair by the fire. 

“To have been sent to tell you to go back 
when you have for yourself decided would be 
superfluous. And there is no waste in Nature 
— no. Nor yet in super-Nature.” 

He looked at us fixedly as though he were 
measuring the bond between us, and I believe 
he was calling to mind those few chance words 
that began our friendship, or how else was it 
that I too was thinking of them? 

“ I make a strong good thing, “ he murmured 

to himself. “Yes. I make it stronger than I 
282 


The Davosers 

know — than Death itself more strong? Per- 
haps, yes.” 

He roused himself from his dreamy abstrac- 
tion to ask what I had eaten and drunk that 
day, what rest I had had, and how far I had 
walked: he shook his head when he heard how 
much I had been able to do. 

” Abnormal,” he said, gravely. ” For to- 
day, the will has lorded it over the body, but 
when the flesh remembers its weakness and the 
soul finds out its pain, there must be a reaction 
— it may be a collapse — and that Will be the end. 

But no! ” He pulled himself up and spoke 

sternly. 

” If you go with him, have you the will to 
control yourself, to unstring yourself little by 
little? ” 

My lips were so dry that I could hardly make 
him an answer. 

” You think, yes. I also. Because I see 
there is for you no chance at all if I take you 
back, but perhaps half a chance in a thousand 
if I let you go.” 

The train was due to start. Flutter-by had 
283 


The Davosers 

climbed in, but with my foot on the step and my 
hand on the rail I turned dumbly to Rittner 
signifying that I would still go back if it was 
right that I should do so. But he smiled and 
his face seemed only more wonderfully kind 
because of its sadness. 

“ One must not,” he said very gently, 
“ send up the death-rate of Davos. And so — 
en voiture! ” 

As the train steamed out of the station, we 
looked back at him; the little man standing 
alone in the bright light on the long, deserted 
platform, with the shadow of the hat which he 
held raised above his head shrouding his eyes. 
Then the light wavered, and it may only have 
been the dimming of its radiance that gave 
the semblance of sorrow to the still figure, but 
it seemed as though there were a quiver about 
the steady lips and that the shoulders drooped 
a little from their brave uprightness. 

As I watched him standing there, the know- 
ledge came to me that it was sometimes a little 
hard for him — the Viceroy of Providence. 


284 


The Davosers 

“ You’re worn out, Rex. I’ve let you do too 
much.” Flutter-by’s voice was full of anxious 
self-reproach. 

“ Never so well, nor so happy, dear boy, but 
I’m tired — I think I’ll turn in if you’re ready.” 

We had not enough money for the wagon-lity 
but since we had our compartment to ourselves 
we were well off. I know that once I had 
stretched myself at full length on the broad seat, 
a warm delicious drowsiness stole over me and 
r felt that I was going to sleep more soundly 
than I had done for many nights. 

The gentle swaying of the carriage was very 
restful as we pounded along, and, undaunted 
by the labouring breath of the engine, came the 
measured rhythmic murmur of the wheels: 

” On — and On — and On — and On — and 
On— TFards.” 

Flutter-by had unpacked his rugs and thrown 
some coverings over me : then he veiled the light 
and we were in darkness. 

” Are you all right? Warm enough? ” 

” Yes, thanks. I say, have you kept anything 

for yourself, Flutter-by? ” 

285 


The Davosers 

“ Course I have. What did you want to 
start up like that for? You’ll have all the 
clothes off you.” 

He dropped on one knee beside me to tuck 
the rug well under my shoulders. I was lying 
turned towards him, so thrusting out a hand 
to meet his, we gripped each other silently. 

It may have been hardly midnight or it may 
have been past the hour, but it was then that the 
New Year began for him and me — both of us 
together. 

And still the train chanted its Psalm of Life: 

” On — and On — and On — and On — and 
On — Wards.** 


THE END 


286 


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WATERLOO HOUSE, THORNTON STREET 




Deaddified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 



PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES. INC. 


1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 
(412) 779-2111 






